


Paw For The Course

by disco_agidyne



Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Actual Cat Burglar P5 Protag, Cat Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pro Golf Cat AU, Shapeshifting, Wildcardshipping, Zen Is There, cameos by IT and Heist Team members, expect tags to change/update as story progresses, of both the literal and literary varieties, one-sided yu/zen, souyo happened once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 80,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5369576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disco_agidyne/pseuds/disco_agidyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day a lost cat runs onto the green, ruining what would have been a perfect shot for professional golfer Yu Narukami. He finds he doesn't really mind, not when he's got an adorable new friend to ease his loneliness.</p>
<p>Or at least, that's what he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This is all eggchef's fault.](http://eggchef.tumblr.com/post/134619384342/and-yet-another-wildcard-shipping-au-lonely) (Spoilers for fic in link, probably, but nothing major.)
> 
> We've been discussing this AU for a few weeks now, and there's no way I couldn't write it. I hope you enjoy the fruits of our headcanons.
> 
> As usual, a big thank you to Angevon for proofreading!
> 
> Edit, 8/28/2017: P5 Protag has a different name in this fic because it was started before he had a canon name. If this bothers anyone, I apologize.

Seven years ago, if someone had asked Yu Narukami what he wanted to be when he grew up, professional golfer wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but here he was at age twenty-four, on hole eighteen, not just participating, but _leading_ in a national golf tournament.

It started the day Yosuke had first shoved that golf club in his hands before they went back into the TV. Something just felt so natural about holding it in his hands, taking aim, and smacking shadows around with it. He knew golf was something he had to pursue when he realized just how disappointed he was to upgrade to an actual sword, and how incredibly irrational that was given the circumstances. He took it up more seriously in college, joining the university’s golf team. Ironically, when he told Yosuke about the origin of his golf aspirations, his partner’s response was, “Man, you’re a weirdo.”

Maybe Yosuke was right, but Yu was a famous weirdo about to complete a par six hole in three shots to become the youngest golf champion in Japan.

Or at least, he would have if a small, black ball of fur hadn’t dashed onto the course and pounced on the golf ball. A young woman followed it onto the fairway, scrambling to pick it up and frantically looking between Yu, the wriggling fluff in her hands, and her angry boss glaring daggers at her from the sidelines. Yu slowly made his way to her.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! It’s just, the cat was running through the spectators, and, well, you know how crowded these things get. I couldn’t catch up to it and then—uh, Mr. Narukami?”

Yu stopped in front of her, his eyes were locked on the cat the woman was holding.

“Can I… can I hold it?”

“Uh…” The woman glanced back at her boss. He had a hand on his forehead and was shaking his head. “Sure?”

Though Yu’s smile was small, his face brightened considerably as he cradled the cat in his arms.

“No collar, huh? Do you have an owner?” he asked, very much to the cat, as if expecting an answer other than a confused meow.

“Uh, well…” The woman turned to the television camera. “If anyone’s missing a black cat, please let us know!”

Her boss arrived at the scene and tugged his subordinate aside by her ear.

“That’s the commentator’s job, you dolt,” he said as he pulled her off screen. As they disappeared into the crowd he muttered something about how it was a “damn good thing Narukami’s popular enough for her to get away with slouching on the job this time.” Yu wanted to say something, but ultimately couldn’t bring himself to intervene. The head of security was a scary man.

Instead, Yu turned to the camera himself.

“For now I’ll provide…” He turned the cat over to check, much to the cat’s audible dismay, “…him with a home until we hear from the owner.” He hesitated for a moment, then turned to his caddy. “If that’s okay.”

His caddy only shrugged helplessly.

In the end, Yu had to redo the hole from the beginning. He didn’t do as well the second time, but still managed to place in the top three. Even so, he went home with a spring in his step, looking forward to living with his new feline roommate.

“I guess you should probably see a vet,” Yu said, examining his calendar on the wall. “I have tomorrow off, so I can take you then.”

The cat paused to look up at him from the floor, but quickly returned his attention to exploring his new home. Yu’s apartment wasn’t particularly fancy, but his job left him with enough funds for a nicer place than most. Since he lived alone, the place was plenty spacious enough. Yu himself would even go so far as to describe it as empty. Then again, he’d felt that way about everywhere he’d lived since leaving the Dojima household.

But not today. Today his home was filled with the presence of someone he was sure would become a great new friend. And, though he felt selfish for thinking such a thing, Yu secretly hoped this little guy’s owner wouldn’t appear. He wondered if it was possible for him to be that lucky. He shook his head and told himself not to get his hopes up. The times he’d spent in a full house had always been short-lived, and why would this time be any different?

“You know, I’ve always wanted a cat.”

The cat was too busy sniffing his couch to respond. Yu noticed and walked to the cat’s side, half expecting his new friend to start clawing up his furniture. He didn’t. Instead, he turned back to Yu and whined at him loudly.

“Are you hungry?”

The cat whined again. Being no expert in cat language, he couldn’t be sure, but Yu assumed this meant yes and went to fill the bowls he’d bought on the way home and set them on the kitchen floor.

The cat stared at the bowl filled with pet food, then turned back to Yu, pawing at his leg and meowing again.

“What?”

Yu crouched down and watched the cat, trying to decipher the noise it kept making at him.

“You’re not hungry? Then what is it?”

After several more seconds of this, Yu rested his chin in his hand.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want.”

Yu stood up and started preparing his own dinner. Even if his cat wasn’t hungry, he certainly was. The cat cast a disdainful glance at the food bowl, then trotted up to Yu again. He meowed, though more quietly than before.

“Do you have a name?”

Yu felt a pair of paws land on the back of his leg. Whatever that meant.

“Is it okay if I give you a name? Just for now?”

The paws didn’t move. That meant there weren’t any objections, right?

“How about…” Yu trailed off in thought, flipping over the fish sizzling in the frying pan. He tried to glance back at the cat, but found it impossible at his current angle. “I might need some time to think about it.”

Not long after, Yu sat down to a meal of fried fish and vegetables over rice. The cat jumped up on the table to join him, sitting next to Yu’s bowl and sniffing at the food. Yu knew he should have scolded him for it, but this cat was surely far from home and missing its family and… eating his fish.

“That’s not for you,” Yu protested, gently pushing the cat back.

The cat jumped over Yu’s hand, took one of the fish in his mouth and darted off the table. He dropped it on the floor next to his own food bowl and after settling in a comfortable position, nibbled at the fish.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Yu wanted to be mad. He really did.

The cat finished eating before Yu did and strolled off into the bathroom. Though he was thankful the cat was house trained and glad he’d remembered to pick up a litter box, he frowned. The chances of this cat being a stray just dropped dramatically.

Yu sighed and cleared his dishes from the table. He tried to think of names to distract himself from the depressing idea of the owner wanting their pet back.

When he entered the bathroom to take a bath, Yu found the cat sitting on the toilet, using it the same as any human would. Yu froze in the doorway. The cat tilted its head as Yu slowly backed out of the bathroom.

“Definitely not a stray,” Yu muttered to himself, still half in shock as he retreated to his bedroom. The action had been so human-like in nature, Yu couldn’t help but give in to his natural response to give the cat some privacy.

While he waited for his turn in the bathroom, Yu checked his phone. He had a few messages from his friends back in Inaba, all of them responding to the picture of his new fuzzy friend he’d sent them after the tournament ended. The cat walked into the bedroom as Yu sent out a reply.

“So about a name,” Yu began, picking up the cat and placing him in his lap. “Any ideas?”

As usual, no response.

Yu lifted the cat up to his eye level. He was a fluffy cat, with black fur just long enough to twist a little at the end.

“Captain Curls?”

Yu felt a wet, growing warmth on his leg. Realizing what it was, Yu dropped the cat, who tore out of the room.

“What about Mr. Nibbles?” Yu called after him. The cat ignored him, but after some careful consideration, Yu decided the stain on his pants meant he could call that little fish thief whatever the hell he felt like calling him.

It was a good thing Yu still had to take a bath yet anyway. He entered the bathroom for a second, more successful time, undressed, and settled into a hot bath. He leaned against the back of the tub and stared at the ceiling.

“I hope he doesn’t hate me already.”

Yu tried to convince himself not to worry and that it’d probably just been an accident. Probably.

Mr. Nibbles eventually wandered into the bathroom again. He sat on the floor next to the bath, staring up at the man who’d just named him, flopping his tail from side to side.

“You want a bath, too?”

Mr. Nibbles placed a paw on the tub.

“Is that a yes?”

Unmoving, Mr. Nibbles continued to stare at Yu.

“I’ll give you one when I’m done.” Yu returned his gaze to the ceiling and blinked. “You’re a strange cat.” Wanting baths, using human toilets, Yu could only imagine what he’d discover next. This cat’s owner must really be something.

After their baths, they returned to the bedroom. Yu dressed himself for bed, or at least, he attempted to, though it was difficult considering Mr. Nibbles seemed have had a change of heart about his new roommate, and wouldn’t stop rubbing up against Yu’s shins.

“You must’ve really liked that bath.”

Despite the complications he was having while trying to simultaneously put on pants and not step on his small friend, Yu found himself smiling. After a minute or so he gave up, deciding his boxers would have to be enough for the night. He laid out his futon, which Mr. Nibbles swiftly occupied. Yu turned out the light and joined his new friend. Mumbling a soft “good night” to the cat under his arm, he fell asleep.

The next morning Yu awoke to a cat on his face. Not his ideal way to wake up, but still better than waking up to an empty apartment every day. He picked up Mr. Nibbles and held him above his head.

“Good morning.”

“Meow?” Mr. Nibbles blinked. Yu smiled, lifting his cat’s foreleg with his thumb, making it look as though Mr. Nibbles was waving at him. It didn’t take long for Mr. Nibbles to tire of this and wriggle out of Yu’s grasp, landing directly on his roommate’s forehead before trotting out of the bedroom. Yu sat up and rubbed his forehead while checking his reflection on the screen of his phone, thankful to find nothing but his pride bruised. Soon enough, Mr. Nibbles returned, making his usual loud, needy noises.

“You land on my head and then expect breakfast?” Yu turned to face the black cat standing beside his futon. Mr. Nibbles stared straight at him as if issuing an order rather than requesting a meal.

“Fine, fine.” Yu stood up with a yawn, following Mr. Nibbles into the kitchen. The cat didn’t even acknowledge the still full food bowl this time, walking past it without as much as a glance. Yu had no idea cats could be so picky. Mr. Nibbles eventually came to a stop in front of the stove.

“Meow.”

“You… you expect me to cook for you?”

“ _Meow_.”

Yu wondered if the brand of cat food he’d gotten was really that detestable or if this cat was just that spoiled. Everything Mr. Nibbles did only served to raise more questions in Yu’s mind about this feline’s owner.

“Fine,” Yu conceded, pulling up a list of foods that were okay for cats to eat on his phone and setting it on the counter. “But don’t expect this treatment every—”

Purring softly, Mr. Nibbles rubbed himself up against Yu’s leg, effectively disrupting any thoughts of keeping his cat from eating human foods.

“I-I guess it’s okay.” Yu blushed as he realized Mr. Nibbles was playing him like a fiddle. A very tall, pants-less fiddle.

Yu told himself he was only accepting this cat’s expensive tastes since he wouldn’t have to buy anymore litter for a toilet trained cat. Besides, someone who fed their cat human food every day was sure to pick up Mr. Nibbles before the end of the week.

Yu sighed to himself, then tried to direct his attention to the meal instead of dwelling on the inevitable separation from his new friend. The more he tried not to think about it, the heavier the thoughts became, clouding up his entire mind.

“Hey, Mr. Nibbles,” Yu looked down to the cat at his feet. “Your owner won’t mind if I visit, will they?”

Mr. Nibbles rolled over, laying belly up over Yu’s feet. Yu crouched down and tapped one of the cat’s paws. Mr. Nibbles batted at Yu’s fingers, as if to say “pay attention to the food.”

“On it.”

The two of them ate breakfast together, Yu sharing both his meal and his table with Mr. Nibbles. After finishing, Mr. Nibbles made himself comfortable on the table, laying on his side and closing his eyes. Though Yu wasn’t one for using his cellphone during meals, he couldn’t pass up snapping a shot of his new friend looking so content. The sound of the camera shutter made Mr. Nibbles open his eyes and lift his head, but he didn’t bother to get up. Yu gave him a small smile and reached to pet him. Mr. Nibbles let it happen without resistance, laying his head back down on the table.

Yu wondered if the owner knew where their cat was yet. Even if he wanted to keep Mr. Nibbles forever, Yu was sure the cat himself probably wanted to go home as soon as possible. He opened a social media app on his phone, wrote up a message about the cat he’d found on the fairway, and stared at the screen for a while, thumb hovering over the post button.

At some point Yu’s hand had stopped on the cat’s back, and true to his name, he’d started to nibble on that hand, not happy with the lack of movement.

“You’d probably prefer to be with your owner than me anyway, huh?”

Mr. Nibbles didn’t respond, but he did stop pressing his teeth into Yu’s index finger. Yu hit the post button and put down his phone before setting his petting hand back in motion over the cat’s ribs.

“You’re pretty scrawny for being used to eating human food. How long were you lost?”

Mr. Nibbles must not have cared for that topic, as he was quick to stand and jump off the table, leaving Yu alone with what remained of his breakfast. Maybe it was just his gloomy mood, but Yu decided that reaction was fair. He picked up his phone again to check his post. It already had several hundred hits.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

Taking Mr. Nibbles to the vet proved to be more difficult than expected. The moment Yu tried to carry him out the door, the cat had taken off to the furthest regions of the apartment, hiding in, around, above, and under every piece of furniture Yu owned. As it turned out, Yu owned a lot more furniture than he initially thought.

So there he was, kneeling next to his couch, trying to get the cat tucked in the corner between said couch and the wall to come out of this newfound nook.

“Mr. Nibbles, I’m trying to help you.”

Mr. Nibbles responded with a snarl. Yu was pretty sure this meant “No.”

“We need to make sure you’re healthy. Please come out. Please?”

Mr. Nibbles didn’t budge. It seemed begging was an ineffective tactic in this situation. With this, Yu moved on to plan B and began to move the couch away from the wall. Within moments Mr. Nibbles had darted between Yu’s legs and leapt up to the top of his bookcase. It was the only thing in the apartment Yu couldn’t reach over, and the very fact Mr. Nibbles had the agility to climb it so quickly without knocking anything off was an impressive feat in and of itself.

“…Okay.”

Yu scratched his head, trying to think of a solution. Since getting dressed, he’d already chased Mr. Nibbles all over the apartment. He briefly considered standing on a chair, but something about that seemed dangerous given the cat’s defensive state.

Yu pulled out his phone and a scrap of paper with a number on it. He dialed the number and placed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, I have a question. Do you do house calls?”

An hour or so passed before the veterinarian arrived. Mr. Nibbles had yet to surrender and, alert as ever, he watched from his post atop Yu’s bookshelf.

The vet was a 30-something woman who appeared tired beyond her years, dark circles looming around her eyes that were only further accentuated by her glasses. Her appearance prompted a guilt-ridden “Sorry” out of Yu rather than the usual greeting as he held the door open for her.

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Where’s the patient?”

“Up there.” Yu pointed to the top of the bookshelf. “I’m not sure how we’re gonna get him d—”

Without a word, the vet pulled a laser pointer out of her pocket and aimed the red light at the wall behind Mr. Nibbles. Though he hesitated at first, curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the light to the end of the shelf and down into the adjacent armchair. Distracted by the light, he failed to put up a fight when the vet picked him up. She clicked the laser pointer off and tossed it to Yu.

“You’re gonna need that.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I have more.”

Yu looked at the device in his hand, wondering exactly how much of the average vet clinic budget went toward laser pointers, or how much that women spent if she supplied them on her own.

“Does this little guy have a name?” she asked as she placed the cat on the kitchen table.

“I found him yesterday. He didn’t have a collar, so I don’t know his actual name. I’ve been calling him Mr. Nibbles.”

The vet raised her eyebrows and turned to the cat.

“Fate is cruel.”

“What?” Yu asked, leaning in.

“Ah, nothing,” she said, pulling out her instruments. “So he’s a stray?”

Yu blinked in surprise.

“I don’t think so. He’s housetrained.” ‘Housetrained’ felt like an understatement after what Yu saw the previous night, but he wasn’t sure what else to call it.

“…Huh.”

The vet worked silently, examining Mr. Nibbles, who was a surprisingly well-behaved patient after the amount of resistance he’d put up, from head to toe. Though Yu didn’t usually mind silence, what she’d said earlier bothered him, and her lack of an explanation was weighing on his mind.

“Why do you think he’s a stray?”

“Most housecats are neutered. Mr. Nibbles here still has his manhood.” She gestured to the manhood in question. Yu nodded in understanding. The vet continued, “It’s possible he’s been raised to breed, but... if you don’t hear from an owner in a few weeks, you should probably get that taken care of.”

Mr. Nibbles squirmed at the idea of being ‘taken care of.’ Yu chewed on the inside of his lip, his mind stuck on the doubt he’d heard in the vet’s voice.

Less than an hour later, the checkup ended.

“Well, he’s a little malnourished, but you seem to be taking care of that,” she said, glancing at the full bowl of pet food. “You shouldn’t give him such big portions yet.”

Yu felt a frown tug at the edge of his mouth as he remembered the blatant rejection his initial food offering had received, but he did his best to disguise it.

“Otherwise he’s fine,” she continued, adjusting her glasses. “No major health issues.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’d suggest getting him a collar, though. If he went missing again, it’d increase the chances of him at least being returned to someone, even if you aren’t his owner.”

Yu glanced at Mr. Nibbles. The vet had a point, but given how Mr. Nibbles acted so… human, Yu couldn’t help but think the owner would come around for him soon. Besides, the idea of Mr. Nibbles running away again seemed ludicrous after the way he’d reacted to Yu’s attempt to take him outside of the apartment. Then again, that may have just been his reaction to the word “vet” more than anything.

“I’ll consider it.”

The vet made a face at Yu, the kind of face that let him know he was being judged. Wanting to avoid an uncomfortable situation, he thanked her and sent her away, closing the door before returning his attention to Mr. Nibbles, who was sitting on the kitchen table grooming himself.

Against his better judgment, Yu decided to test his theory about taking Mr. Nibbles outside. Yu picked him up and faced the door and started to walk, cooing something about taking him for a walk as a reward for good behavior during the checkup. Within eight steps of the door Mr. Nibbles began to squirm. Within four steps, he clawed his way out of Yu’s arms and swiftly lodged himself deep behind the couch again.

Yu rubbed the scratches on his arm. None of them were deep enough to draw blood, but they still hurt.

“So the vet has nothing to do with it.”

Yu found himself wondering what made this cat so averse to going outside, if something traumatic had happened before he’d run into the tournament.

Yu knelt next to the couch again.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

Mr. Nibbles hissed at him from his corner. Yu tried to lure him out with the laser pointer, but to no avail. Mr. Nibbles wasn’t about to fall for that twice in the same day. Yu rubbed his neck, silently deciding it might be best to just wait for the cat to get over it rather than force him out.

 _At least I don’t have to worry about him breeding if he won’t leave_ , Yu thought, finding a small amount of relief in the fact that this cat with such expensive human tastes managed to be cheap in other areas. Mr. Nibbles would get to keep his manhood as long as he lived under Yu’s roof, it seemed.

Yu put on his jacket and grabbed his wallet.

“I’m gonna go do some grocery shopping,” he said, hand on the door handle. “I’ll bring you back a treat for being good for the vet, okay?”

Mr. Nibbles watched Yu leave from his nook behind the couch. The moment the door clicked shut, he wandered out and shook the dust off of himself. He spent a good hour or so exploring the apartment uninterrupted. In the process he discovered some interesting things about his human roomie, like his tendency to use photos as bookmarks, a dusty collection of mix CDs labelled in handwriting that didn’t match the notes on the calendar and fridge, and some suspicious papers stashed away in a crevice between a desk and the wall in Yu’s bedroom.

Before he could look further into it, he heard something against the glass of the balcony door. Another cat, female, slightly larger than himself but notably more feral, with cream-colored fur and dark stripes stood there, tapping at the door with her paw. Mr. Nibbles jumped up to a table beside the door, then unlocked it. Together, they slid the door open just enough for the larger cat to enter. After entering the apartment, the new arrival smacked Mr. Nibbles across the face with her paw.

“ _What are you thinking?!_ ”

“Hello to you, too,” Mr. Nibbles mumbled, grooming his whiskers.

“This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.”

“This guy is hardly dangerous. He’s a pushover.”

“The man hits things with clubs for a living and here you are telling me he’s not dangerous.” The blonde cat was practically glaring at him. Unconcerned, Mr. Nibbles continued to groom himself. Irritated at the lack of response, the other cat pushed him over. “What if you turn back? Or have you learned to control it since leaving?”

Mr. Nibbles cringed.

“I haven’t, but—”

“Great. _Great_. You still can’t control it and _you’re living with a stranger_.”

“He’s not gonna do anything,” Mr. Nibbles assured her, sitting up.

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“He can’t do anything. He’s famous, remember? If he throws me out, he’ll look like a heartless monster.”

“Even if you turn back?” the feral cat asked, curling and uncurling her tail.

“A celebrity can’t throw out a homeless man without ruining his rep.”

“He can throw out a stalker,” she said, circling around Mr. Nibbles as if eyeing up her prey rather than having a conversation.

“Oh, c’mon, who stalks professional golfers?”

The female cat narrowed her eyes.

“I’ll make sure he knows I’m his cat, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“What, so you’re just gonna cross that bridge when you get to it?”

“ _If_. If I get to it,” Mr. Nibbles corrected her.

“Just because it’s been a few months since you last shifted doesn’t mean you’re safe. You should come back home.”

Mr. Nibbles lowered his head.

“That place is hardly a home.”

“Fine, stay then, but I’m not hauling your ass out of jail when you inevitably turn back and get the cops called on you.”  She turned away from him, exiting through the still open door.

“Good. I didn’t ask you to.”

“Good.”

“ _Good_.”

She closed the door herself, then leapt from the balcony to a parallel wall, then to the ground, all in one graceful motion before disappearing into the city. Mr. Nibbles watched her go, then returned his attention to the secret stash, pulling a magazine out from the crevice with his paw.

His investigation was cut short by the sound of the front door swinging open and the subsequent drop of shoes into the genkan and footsteps wandering into the apartment.

“I’m home,” Yu called out, a little louder than he usually would in hopes that his small friend would come to greet him. Upon receiving no such welcome he sighed. “I guess you’re still mad.”

Though Mr. Nibbles couldn’t say he was completely over Yu’s second attempt at an outing, he found he had more pressing matters to attend to as he frantically tried to shove the magazine back into its hiding spot. He was finding that paws were not ideal for working with paper. The sound of something _thunk_ ing against the kitchen counter did nothing to calm him.

“Where are you?” Yu asked, apparently having already checked behind the couch. “I have something for you.”

Yu entered his room, and immediately spotted Mr. Nibbles standing at attention beside his desk, tail and fur both on end. The magazine was still halfway out behind him, revealing a cover graced by a rather nice pair of legs.

“There you are,” Yu said, heading straight toward him. Knowing he’d been caught, Mr. Nibbles shut his eyes as Yu crouched beside him, thinking in that moment that maybe his friend had been right, a man who swings clubs for a living is not to be trusted. Just as he thought that, he felt a gentle hand under his chin. He opened his eyes, first one and then the other, only to see Yu smiling down at him.

“I see you were busy while I was gone.” Yu returned the magazine to its place without a second thought, then started digging in the bag he’d brought in with him. Mr. Nibbles watched him, looking for any trace of anger, but finding none.

He did, however, notice an interesting scent in the air. He took a step toward the bag, and then another, the scent growing stronger as he drew closer. The scent wasn’t particularly good or bad, but somehow Mr. Nibbles found himself drawn to it. Yu pulled out a couple toys, one shaped like a fish, the other shaped like a mouse, and both of them, just reeking with such an incredible force that it sent the cat’s mind into a frenzy.

Mr. Nibbles decided then and there: He had to have whatever was in those toys.

He pounced on them quicker than Yu could pull away, taking Yu’s arm, and consequently Yu himself, down with them.

“W-wait—” was all Yu could manage to say before his chin hit the wood floor. He grunted in pain as the cat tore open the fish in his palm. Mr. Nibbles grasped the toy firmly between his paws and rolled around on Yu’s arm, leaving a trail of loose fur on his sleeve. The room was still spinning when Yu opened his eyes. He slowly pulled his arm out from beneath the cat, and pushed himself up into a kneeling position, holding his head as he did so. Once the dizziness subsided, he turned to the excited Mr. Nibbles floundering about on the floor.

Yu watched him fondly, rubbing his scratched up hand.

“I’m glad you like them.”

They stayed this way for a while, playing together, Mr. Nibbles rubbing his face against one toy until Yu tossed him the other. Eventually Yu pulled himself away to make a late lunch. He made extra for Mr. Nibbles, but by the time the cat left the bedroom, Yu had already finished his own meal. He left the extra piece of meat in Mr. Nibbles’ food bowl before settling down on the couch with his laptop and the player stats from the tournament.

Mr. Nibbles only took a bite or two out of his share before abandoning his meal. Hit by a wave of sudden exhaustion, he crawled up onto the couch and settled on Yu’s lap. With a tiny yawn, he passed out there, leaving Yu doomed to an indefinitely long sit. At first Yu didn’t mind, absentmindedly scratching the cat between the ears as he checked the scores of his rivals, but by the time he’d closed his laptop, he was warm, cramped up, and could feel whatever spice he’d used in his lunch coming back to haunt him. But as it was, he’d just earned this cat’s trust again, and Yu wasn’t about to let that go to waste by giving in to his physical weaknesses.

“I will persevere,” he whispered to himself with the same tenacity he’d used to save his friends from their shadows seven years ago. His friends he used to be so close to. His friends he hadn’t seen in over a year. His friends who all had their own lives to live, lives where he’d been pushed into the periphery. He couldn’t blame them, after all, he had his own life too, and yet…

Yu found himself opening his laptop again, looking up his friend’s profiles. Though they hadn’t been able to get together in person, they had managed to keep in touch through texting and social media. At least, that’s what Yu told himself as he read the only messages he’d gotten in the last three months, all of which being replies to his initial message about Mr. Nibbles. That’s what he told himself as he scrolled through pages filled with photos of them with their new friends.

Mr. Nibbles rubbed his head into Yu’s hand, having woken up at some point while Yu had been sorting through his lonelier thoughts. Yu indulged him, petting him from his head to the middle of his back. Mr. Nibbles rewarded him with a low purr, and yet the smile Yu gave him in return was more sad than grateful.

“And you’ll leave me soon, too,” he said in a voice small enough that even Mr. Nibbles had trouble hearing it.

_I’ll be alone again._

The cat looked up at him, eyes wide with what Yu hoped was concern, but was sure was pity.

“I must seem pretty pathetic to you, huh?” Yu forced a laugh as he scratched behind the cat’s ear. Soon Mr. Nibbles was climbing up on Yu’s chest, rubbing his head under Yu's chin. Yu laughed again, more genuine this time, the kitty snuggles tickling him into submission.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop being so gloomy, I promise!”

Mr. Nibbles relented, though not so much because of Yu’s words as his arms wrapping around him.

“Thank you.”

Compared to before, Yu was practically beaming.

“Even when your owner takes you back, we’ll still be friends, okay?”

Mr. Nibbles meowed in response.

“That’s a yes, right?”

Yu snatched his phone from the coffee table and held it out in front of the two of them. He snapped a selfie of them together.

“To commemorate our friendship,” he said as he posted it for the masses to see.

This became their everyday. Every morning Yu awoke to Mr. Nibbles pawing his face. Yu made breakfast and lunch for him before leaving for practice, and supper when he returned. He’d gently scold Mr. Nibbles for knocking over a bottle of this or a container of that on his kitchen counter while he was gone. Every evening they played together, Yu asking for kisses on his nose, cheek, and chin, and Mr. Nibbles gladly obliging while Yu snapped photos of them together for his blog. Every night they fell asleep side-by-side, Yu with his arm wrapped around his furry friend and a smile on his face.

Months passed, and still no one claimed Mr. Nibbles.

And though he knew it was selfish, Yu was glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah I actually wrote this while I should have been doing something far more important, but I'm just so excited for what's gonna happen later and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAH
> 
> Look forward to it. =u=


	3. Chapter 3

Yu had been staring at his cell phone for at least twenty minutes when Mr. Nibbles crawled up into his lap. Without looking away from the screen, he rested his free hand on his cat’s head and sighed.

He was lonely. No two ways about it. He wasn’t close to anyone at work and he hadn’t seen his friends in months. His cousin Nanako was the only family to even bother to call. Sure, he had Mr. Nibbles, but even Yu had to admit that a cat wasn’t the same as human companionship. Hell, if anything it was because of his cat that he realized how lonesome he actually was.

So there he sat, staring at the New Message screen on his phone, tapping it every so often to keep it from going into sleep mode and trying to think of a way to invite his partner (if he could even still call him that) over. He’d rewritten the invitation a few times already, not happy with the previous wordings for one reason or another. The fact they hadn’t exactly been on good terms last time they parted ways wasn’t helping anything, and the stretch of time between then and now only made it that much worse. He’d managed to parse it down to: _‘Hey. We should get together._ ’

It didn’t sound right. It sounded needy, if robots were needy. All this time alone was doing nothing for his prose.

Between the two sentences he added: ‘ _It’s been a while._ ’

That at least sounded more conversational, right?

Yu chewed on his lip, still not satisfied. It still sounded needy. He might as well type in ‘ _Oh, Yosuke, it’s been so long. Please, oh please, won’t you light up my bleak existence with your vibrant face as soon as you can?_ ’

Yu cringed a little as he thought about how he knew that kind of message wouldn’t work, not after how they’d left things.

He tagged on a quick ‘ _sometime_ ’ at the end of the last sentence. He hoped that would sound more like ‘ _visit at your leisure, when you have time_ ,’ and less like ‘ _I need you, right now._ ’

It was better, but…

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

_He probably doesn’t want to see me after that anyway._

“Meow?”

Yu looked down to see Mr. Nibbles staring up at him through the spaces between his fingers. He moved his hand to see his cat’s face without obstruction. The cute fluffy face was enough to distract Yu from his doubts just long enough for Mr. Nibbles to thwap his tail against the send button. Yu’s eyes went wide when he noticed the message had left the text box.

“ _Shit—_ ”

He scrambled to delete it before Yosuke saw it, but the screen already indicated that his conversation partner was typing out a reply. He silently cursed his luck. Yosuke always had been the type to constantly check his phone.

_‘YEAH whn R U free?’_

Yu blinked, surprised to see such a positive response. He let his eyes fall back on the cat in his lap who was purring lazily as it brushed its tail against Yu’s forearm.

  

* * *

 

 

Yosuke stood outside Yu’s apartment, looking at the message on his phone, tapping his foot to the beat of a song stuck in the back of his head. It’d been nearly a year since the last time he’d seen his partner, and truth be told, he was nervous. Even though they were partners, or at least _supposed to be partners_ , Yu had been withdrawn since—

He didn’t like to think about it.

Yosuke pressed the thought into the deepest crevice of his mind, concentrating instead on the task at hand: Knocking on Yu’s apartment door. He raised his fist to the wood, then pulled it back and glanced at his phone again.

_‘Hey. It’s been a while. We should get together sometime.’_

Yosuke wanted to be glad about this. Yu had rarely ever been one for extending the invitation first, but something about the text was distant, almost cold. Then again, Yosuke couldn’t blame him, not after six months of silence. It’d been a year since they’d last seen each other in person. The guilt alone had been enough to drive Yosuke into meeting with him again.

Yosuke wondered if Yu actually wanted to see him, or if the text was out of some weird sense of courtesy. Or if, God forbid, Yu actually wanted to talk about—

Yosuke shoved that memory back where it belonged and knocked on the door. _Partners_ , he told himself, _we’re freaking partners_.

Yu answered the door. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke, heavy despite its brevity, like the words had caught in his throat.

“Yosuke,” he finally said, taking a breath. “I’m glad you could come.”

“Y-yeah, me too, Partner.”

Yosuke entered the apartment only to be met head on with the scent of beef and daikon. Shit, of course Yu would have to be cooking. Yosuke felt a new layer of guilt wrap around the several others already crushing him into submission.

“It’s been a while,” Yu said as he picked up a ladle and stirred whatever it was he had boiling on the stove. Yosuke was no cooking expert, but he could only assume it was the source of the scent.

“Too long,” Yosuke agreed, his hand on his neck and his gaze on the floor.

“You think so too?”

Yosuke wasn’t sure if this small talk was supposed to be a guilt trip or not, but it sure felt like one. Just as the sound of boiling stew started to take over, Yosuke rushed to fill the hole in the conversation.

“So where’s that cat you were telling us about?” he asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter next to where Yu was standing.

“So you did get the memo,” Yu said with a small laugh. Yosuke couldn’t find it all that funny, not when every little thing Yu said only reminded him of how he’d failed to respond to said news. The only news that Yu had been excited enough about to actually tell them about in the last six months.

“Well, yeah. How could I miss it when you’re posting pictures of him every day?”

Fuck, did that sound like he was annoyed by the only thing Yu had been posting about lately? Or like he hadn’t seen the text and was only following this online? Yosuke kicked himself internally. Luckily, Yu didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

“He’s around. I’m sure he’ll show up when the food’s done.”

Yosuke looked over the apartment. He didn’t see any signs of life other than Yu and himself.

“Does he not like people or…”

“I’m not sure. You’ll be the first person besides the vet to see him since he started living here.”

Yosuke’s head snapped around to face Yu again.

“Wait, really? Haven’t you had him for a few months now?”

“He freaks out if you try to take him outside.”

“That’s weird. Didn’t you meet him out—” Yosuke shook the distraction out of his head. “No, I meant like, haven’t you had any other…”

The spoon clacked against the side of the pan, killing the rest of the sentence in Yosuke’s throat. He couldn’t see Yu’s face, but his hand slowly curled up into a loose fist beside the spoon’s handle.

Yu already knew how that sentence would’ve ended, he’d been saying the same thing to himself for a while, but somehow it hurt more to hear it from someone else, to find out that his façade was transparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean— That wasn’t…” Yosuke trailed off, finding himself increasingly upset that the wrong words came so easily while the right ones eluded him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stuck his foot in his mouth, but God, why’d it have to happen then, of all times?

“It’s fine, Yosuke,” Yu said, taking up the ladle again.

A muffled squeak came from Yosuke’s throat, indicating both his disagreement with his partner’s statement as well as his discomfort with audibly contesting it.

The two of them stood in silence with only the sound of cooking to distract them from the heavy atmosphere for what had to be at least a minute, though it felt more like an eternity.

“How’s golfing going?” Yosuke asked, eyes glued to the floor as though he was more interested in the pattern of the tile than the answer.

“All right, I guess. Broke par on the local course again last week.”

Yosuke let out a small laugh at how bored Yu sounded as he said that.

“Isn’t that normal for you? I mean, you’re like, what? Second best in the country?”

“Something like that.”

“You don’t seem very excited about it.”

Yu wasn’t excited about it at all.

He was at first. It was a big deal, after all, being so good at something that they asked you to do it all over the country, put you on television for it, interviewed you for sports magazines, asked you to promote their products. And it was something he genuinely loved to do, to boot. But it’d somehow gone from being his passion to his distraction. The thing he did to forget that he’d go home and spend another night eating leftovers and watching quiz show reruns alone in his apartment. The thing he did to actually interact with another human being for a couple hours, even if it was just the caddy paid to put up with him.

And sure, Mr. Nibbles helped. He’d helped a lot in the past couple months. But there were certain things a cat just couldn’t do.

“What’s new in your life, Yosuke?”

Like hold a conversation.

“Oh, uh…”

Even an awkward one like this.

“Well,” Yosuke began, face growing pink. “I’ve been seeing this girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we met a few months ago at the train station a block down from my place. I lost my wallet and she paid for my train ticket.”

“As unlucky as always.” Yu laughed. “Reminds me of how we met.”

“Shut up,” Yosuke muttered, giving Yu a light shove. “Actually, she reminds me a lot of you.”

Yu gave his partner a questioning look.

“I mean, she’s nice. Definitely the type to help a guy out of a trashcan.”

Yosuke looked up only to find Yu furrowing his brow, not much, but enough to notice, in an effort to make sense of Yosuke’s rambling.

“N-never mind,” Yosuke’s stammered, waving his hands. For some reason his face was a deeper pink than before. Suddenly the floor was interesting again, and another silence filled the room that lasted until Yu turned his attention back to his cooking.

“A few months ago, huh?”

The question jabbed Yosuke’s guilty conscience hard enough to make him flinch.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, but I didn’t think you’d, you know, be interested.”

Even though Yu understood the feeling (he’d been keeping a lot of things to himself too for the very same reason) and though he knew that Yosuke wasn’t trying to say these painful things on purpose, it still hurt. He did his best to keep the pain to himself, but before he knew it the words were falling out of his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t I be interested?”

He felt like a hypocrite for asking, all the things over the months he’d failed to tell his partner about flipping through his mind, and Yosuke was standing there with this look on his face like the words were made out of cinder blocks, falling on each of his toes in rapid succession.

Mr. Nibbles trotted into the kitchen, much to everyone’s relief, even if he did stop in his tracks the moment he spotted Yosuke.

“S-so this is your new friend! Mr. Nibbles, right?” Yosuke asked, ungracefully grasping at the chance to change the subject as he knelt down to greet the cat. Yu was a little disappointed that his question went unanswered, but it wasn’t as though he himself hadn’t pulled a similar tactic earlier in the conversation.

“Yeah.”

Yosuke turned to the cat.

“Hey, little buddy.”

Mr. Nibbles was too busy staring at the new human to respond. After a few seconds he turned to Yu then back to Yosuke, and sniffed the air.

“Thanks for taking care of my partner all this time,” Yosuke said, reaching out to the cat in front of him. “I know I… hey!”

Before he could finish or even manage to touch the cat’s fur, Mr. Nibbles was zooming back into Yu’s bedroom.

“Yu, I don’t think your cat likes me.”

Yu turned away from his work just long enough to see the frown stretched across Yosuke’s face. Yu found himself smiling. It was all he could do to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t feel too bad. He’s kind of… weird.”

“Yeah?” Yosuke stood back up and crossed his arms, his eyes still on the path Mr. Nibbles had taken to escape. “Just like his owner, I guess.”

“I guess,” Yu admitted as he turned off the stove. “I like to think I’m not quite that bad.”

Yosuke raised his eyebrows and turned to his partner again, who was filling two bowls with stew and a third with some kind of shredded meat.

“Why’s that?”

“Well…” Yu set the meat bowl on the floor next to the cat’s water bowl. He squinted at it for a moment, suddenly hit by a wave of disappointment as he remembered the rejected bag of cat food in the closet. “He acts more like a human than a cat sometimes.”

Over the months Yu noticed several strange behaviors from his cat, many of which made him wonder what kind of upbringing Mr. Nibbles must have had. Some of them were small, hardly proof of anything, like sitting on Yu’s lap when he was reading or watching television, and looking in the same direction as his master for the entire duration of the time. But sometimes…

“Really?” Yosuke tossed a thoughtful look up to the ceiling. “What does he do? Invite his friends over without asking and drink all your alcohol?”

Yu vaguely recalled Yosuke whining a year or so prior about one of his past roommates doing something similar. He couldn’t really blame him for still being bitter about that.

“W-well, no, but…” Yu finished setting the table.

…Sometimes Mr. Nibbles got impatient when Yu didn’t turn the page quick enough, and tried to turn it himself. Sometimes he tried to change the channel, always to the same program, some American cartoon about a superhero vigilante, unless there was a baseball game on. Mr. Nibbles had this mysterious sense for knowing when there was a baseball game on TV.

As the two of them sat down, Yu continued, “I think he understands humans. Our language, I mean.”

“So… you think your cat speaks Japanese?”

Yosuke’s voice was layered with doubt, only emphasized by his raised eyebrow and the way he was leaning on the table, holding his face up with one hand.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Yu knew he should drop the conversation, that he should just let it go and ask Yosuke about the oddities in his life, but this was the first time he’d had the chance to talk to another human about it face-to-face instead of the strangers on the internet who told him he was either crazy or lying, his first chance to actually get a second opinion about his cat’s bizarre mannerisms, and _God, did they drive him nuts_.

And so, against his better judgment, he locked eyes with Yosuke and told him the truth.

“Yes.”

Yosuke sighed.

“Partner…”

“No, I mean it,” Yu insisted, feeling his partner’s judging gaze. “He’s always doing human things. He reads, he watches TV, he only eats human food. He likes music, Yosuke. Human music. He bounces along with it. When his favorite song ends he hits the back button so it plays again.”

Yosuke wore a tired look. He lifted his head and let his hand drop to the table.

“Yu, I know it’s been a while, and… and you don’t get out much, but—”

“I get out at least once a day.”

“Work doesn’t count.”

Yosuke was stirring his meal and starting to wonder if he’d ever get to enjoy it.

Yu rubbed his temple, then let his hand fall back on the table.

“He’s not normal, Yosuke. He sits on the damn toilet the same as any human would.”

“Partner, what the hell?”

“ _He does!_ ”

“I think all this time alone’s getting to you, man.”

Yu had considered the possibility that he was losing his mind to loneliness, and his cat was serving as the catalyst. He really had. He’d sat down many times, watched Mr. Nibbles do something odd like open a magazine and sit in front of it, and then thought that maybe, just maybe, his cat wasn’t reading so much as just playing with the paper. That the deliberateness of each page turn was all in his head. That Mr. Nibbles tore out that picture of a lean, half-naked athlete casting a smoldering gaze at the camera out of an urge to collect and shred things and not to look at later. That the stash of torn out magazine pages he found behind the couch weren’t entirely photospreads of swimsuit models folded neatly and not at all crunched into a ball like one would expect from a cat.

And then he realized it’d be crazier not to think something was up.

“That’s not it. I mean, maybe a little, but—”

“Just… just stop.” Yosuke set the chopsticks down. “You don’t have to do… this.”

“What?”

“This… this thing where you make up things to keep people interested in you.”

Yu sat there speechless, wondering if that was the impression he gave off, if that was what Yosuke really thought of him, and why jumping into a TV to fight shadows was believable and realistic while a literate cat wasn’t.

“Like, I get it, it sucks being alone, but you’re not so boring that—”

“Yosuke, I swear I’m not making this up.” He clenched a fist under the table, trying his best not to let Yosuke see his frustration. “I’m not just making up stories because I’m some lonely shut-in starved for attention, okay?”

A third heavy silence took over the room, this time without the sound of food to save it. Looking at anything besides the table in front of them became increasingly difficult.

“Look, Yu, I…” Yosuke shook his head. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch. You know, like I said I would.”

“It’s fine.” Yu didn’t bother to look up from the table. Suddenly the literate cat dilemma didn’t seem so pressing. “You’re busy.”

Yosuke cringed.

“I’m not _that_ busy. I should have at least called. Or texted. Or… or _something_.”

Yosuke looked up to gauge Yu’s reaction, but there was no longer one to gauge. His face was blank and his eyes were hollow.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Yosuke really wished Yu would just fucking look at him.

“Is it really okay or are you just saying that?”

Yu took a deep breath and hooked his fingers on the edge of the table.

“Yosuke—”

“It’s my fault,” Yosuke started, feeling his own voice crack, but pressing on. “It’s my fault we’re avoiding each other and I—”

“It’s no one’s fault.”

Despite his stern voice, Yu’s trembling hand gave him away. He was far more upset than he was letting on, and it made Yosuke’s chest hurt.

“Why won’t you just let me apologize?”

Yu lifted his eyes to face Yosuke.

“You don’t have to apologize because it never happened.”

“But it did happen, and—”

“That’s what we agreed, remember?” Yu raised his voice. “That’s what _you_ wanted.”

“What I wanted was for us to stay friends. Not…” Yosuke shook his head as he stood up from the table, the sound of the chair skidding against the floor bouncing against the apartment’s walls and scraping against Yu’s ears. “Not whatever this is.”

With that, Yosuke left. The door fell shut behind him, and the way the sound echoed through the apartment only served to emphasize how empty it was.

Sitting alone at a meal for two without a friend to share it with, Yu slouched over the table and buried his face in his arms before the tears could spill over.

“Then why did you abandon me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It not the chapter anyone asked for, but here we are. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> (I promise I'll get the wildcard part eventually.)


	4. Chapter 4

**10 Minutes Earlier**

Mr. Nibbles scrambled into Yu’s bedroom, rushing into the curl of the futon blanket, causing the top fold to fall to the floor. His nose felt like it was going to explode at any moment —whatever cologne that Yosuke guy was wearing, it was strong enough to fill his nostrils with this insane itching sensation– and this was the only solution his panicked mind could think of.

His panicked mind could use some improvement.

The sneeze flew through him so hard that the world was spinning before his eyes.

“Shit _._ ”

Mr. Nibbles blinked.

“Shit?” he repeated, perplexed by the sound of his own voice. As the world slowed down, he sat up, the futon unfolding around him. When he looked down and found a naked human body in place of the furry feline one he’d had for the past year, the color drained from his face.

“ _Shit!_ ” he blurted, then covered his mouth and shot a look at the door. He crawled over to it and peeked out. Yu seemed to be having a passionate enough discourse with his friend to not notice his outburst.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of way out of this situation. The first thing his eyes settled on was the window. The idea of just jumping out of it and going home was tempting, but he knew Yu would go looking for his missing cat, and being the person he was, it wasn’t going to be just some small thing. That, and a nude man leaping out the window of a semi-famous athlete and parkouring across the city wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Even if he put on some of Yu’s clothes first, he’d just look like a stalker.

Fuck, he was going to look like a stalker anyway, sitting naked on this man’s floor.

Whatever. He didn’t want to go home anyway. That’s why he’d left in the first place.

And though he couldn’t say he really wanted to see him just then, he liked Yu, even if he was an eccentric, lonely guy who kept an entire collection of what had to be more than forty CDs he never listened to and liked to read weird fiction about manly fishing, space tourism, and sheep climbing out of hell.

Mr. Nibbles gave the room another once over, deciding that turning back was his only escape route. He didn’t see anything particularly helpful, but then again, he wasn’t sure what that would be.

He closed his eyes and concentrated really, really hard on being a cat again for about twenty seconds, then scolded himself for wasting time and thinking such a stupid idea would work. He had no idea how his friends back home had managed to make some kind of sense out of this transformation business.

Damn, it was cold. He was already starting to miss his fur.

He wrapped the futon around himself and wondered if he’d turn back if he managed to sneeze again. That seemed like such an unreliable method, sometimes it made him change and sometimes it didn’t, and he’d learned years ago that fake sneezes didn’t work. Why’d this power – _Feh, power? More like a curse._ — have to be so fickle?

Maybe dust would work? At least, if there was any. God, why did Yu have to clean the apartment so thoroughly for this guy? Not that he ever let it get that dirty anyway, but…

Whatever scent Yosuke was wearing would probably do the trick, but it wasn’t like he could just sneak in and sniff Yu’s guest.

Maybe Yu wouldn’t care if he found a man in his room. If he was as lonely as he seemed to be maybe he’d just be glad to have someone to talk to. Maybe he’d believe him when he said he was the cat. Maybe he’d actually be happy about it. Mr. Nibbles knew full well what Yu’s tastes were, and they certainly weren’t straight, not that he was ready to go to that level with his owner or anything, but a little show couldn’t hurt.

_No, no. Damn it all. Any normal person would freak the fuck out even if they did think the intruder was hot._

Sure, Yu was weird, but he wasn’t _that_ weird. To expect his sex appeal to work was wishful thinking at best, even if he did look better than he expected to after spending several months as a spoiled cat.

There was a loud noise from the other room, a scraping sound of some sort. Mr. Nibbles looked out the door again. That Yosuke guy was standing, saying something with a look of disappointment plastered all over his face.

_Fuck, he’s leaving already?_

Mr. Nibbles ran his hands through his fluffy black hair, then gripped a clump of it over and over and over and God fucking dammit, he couldn’t think of anything. And he used to be so good at this kind of thing, too. Why wouldn’t fate just throw him a bone already?

Bones only get thrown to dogs, apparently.

 

* * *

 

 

Yu eventually lifted his head to examine the tearstains on his arms. He hated that it was becoming a familiar, almost nostalgic image. He turned his eyes to the door and wiped his nose.

It was the second time Yosuke had walked out of his life, but at least this time he’d gotten to see it. It didn’t really make him feel better, but somehow it gave him a sense of closure.

Yu laid slouched over the table, staring at the two bowls, both still full, no longer steaming. He knew he should eat, but the meal had been made with Yosuke in mind, and he couldn’t bear to think about his ex-partner any more. He didn’t want anything to do with Yosuke, and he was sure Yosuke didn’t want anything to do with him either.

Well, maybe that wasn’t true. If he was given the chance to do it over, he’d take it in a heartbeat. But that offer wasn’t coming any time soon, and he’d rather just forget about it. That friendship was done, gone, over.

Yu tried to stop thinking about it. Thinking about it only made him want to cry again. He thought about going out golfing to get his mind off it, maybe talk about something mundane and trivial with the caddy, but the moment he turned around and looked at his golf bag in the corner by the couch all he could think about was that day at the Junes food court when Yosuke had handed him his first club. He sighed and rested his head on the table again, reexamining the bowls.

The bowls were staring back at him. His appetite had walked out the door right behind Yosuke, it seemed. He couldn’t bring himself to eat the stew, but throwing it away went against every fiber of his being. He wondered how the neighbors felt about daikon.

Before he could ponder it too long, he heard a clatter from his room, which normally he would have attributed to his cat if it hadn’t been followed up by what sounded like someone saying ‘Fuck you, too, shelf.’ Yu’s head shot up, and he turned around, watching his room carefully until he heard what he could only assume was the scuffling sound of the shelf being put back up, something his cat definitely was incapable of doing. He stood up and snatched his phone from the counter and a club from his bag. He took a defensive stance and entered his own room with more caution than he ever thought would be necessary.

A lean naked man with dark messy hair stood there, holding up Yu’s tilted bookshelf and surrounded by books, CDs, and photos at his feet while glaring at the empty shelf before him. He quickly noticed Yu and jumped back, tripping over the pile of books behind him, swearing, and falling onto the unraveled futon. He grabbed Yu’s pillow as he stood himself back up and flinched when Yu took a step back and readied himself for an attack, holding his club the same way he used to hold his sword in the TV.

“Put down your weapon,” Yu commanded, trying to keep his composure despite the fact his life was in shambles. His once best friend had left him, he didn’t see his cat anywhere, and now he had a nude stranger break into his room. (A stalker, maybe? Do people even stalk golfers?) He wasn’t sure how this day could get any worse.

“Really?”

The naked intruder raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t at all the reaction Yu had expected, and there was a short pause as Yu waited for his brain to process what was actually happening.

“What?”

“Listen, man. You’re aiming a golf club at me and all I’ve got is a pillow, but I’m the one with a weapon?”

“People… use pillows to kill sometimes.”

“You’re not even asleep. How does that make any sense?”

“Then why’d you pick it up?”

The man motioned to his crotch, his eyebrows hitched about as high as they’d go, nearly disappearing under his nest of hair.

“Oh.” Yu’s brain came to a halt as he realized what was pressed to the other side of his pillow just then. His face turned pink, but he shook it off, trying to focus on more urgent matters. “Who are you and why are you in my room?”

“Okay, so… I know this is gonna sound ludicrous, but I’m your cat.”

Yu stared at him for a solid ten seconds.

“You’re… you’re my cat?”

“Yes,” the man said with a hopeful nod. “I’m Mr. Nibbles.”

Yu let out a bitter laugh. God, if Yosuke thought he was losing it, he should see this guy.

“Good one.” Yu took a step forward. “Where is he, really?”

The man’s face fell considerably.

“I’m really Mr. Nibbles,” he insisted, placing his free hand over his chest. “I could not make this shit up.”

Yu took another step forward, his face twisted into an expression Mr. Nibbles hadn’t seen on him before, one that scared him enough to make him flinch and fall back against the wall. If he had to describe it, it was something like one part anger, two parts desperation. Eyes wide, pupils shaking, jaw clenched. It wasn’t a face he was used to seeing on his owner at all.

“I swear to God, if you did anything to him, I…”

Yu wasn’t sure what he’d do. Fall to his knees and cry, probably. God, what did it matter, he didn’t have anything left anyway. No friends, no cat to pretend was his friend, even golf became something to remind him he was alone.

The man watched him, his eyes glancing between Yu and the club in his hand. The fear left his features and he shifted his weight from the wall back to his feet.

“Yu…”

The golf club was shaking between them. Only then did Yu realize he was trembling. He shook his head and willed himself to be still.

“Where do you get off calling me that?”

“I told you. I’m Mr. Nibbles. We’ve been living together for months.”

“God, that again?”

“Because it’s the truth,” the man said, making unwavering eye contact with Yu, whose own eyes were wide with something not unlike panic.

“Then,” Yu paused, noticing the club shaking again and reasserting his control over his own body. “Prove it. Turn back. Right now.”

The man frowned and turned away, tightening his grip on the pillow.

“If I could do that, I would’ve done it already.”

“Ch-change back,” Yu stammered, no longer trying to control his nerves. “Change back or show me where he really is.”

“I can’t control it, Yu!” The man stepped forward, frustration knitting his eyebrows together. “It’s not that simple.”

He tried to take another step, but he soon found the business end of the club inches from his nose.

“Change back or you’re lying.”

The man met Yu’s gaze again. Yu’s eyes were welling up, and Yu was blinking just to keep his vision from blurring up with tears.

Any doubts Mr. Nibbles had about Yu actually hitting him were beginning to evaporate.

“Hey, calm down,” he said, holding up his free hand. “We can talk this out.”

“Calm down?” Yu asked, his voice cracked and broken. “After everything that’s happened, you… you…”

“I can prove it some other way. We’ve spent a lot of time together. I should know some things other people don’t, right?”

Yu looked the man over, searching for any sign that he might be planning to take advantage of him once he let his guard down. He wondered what this man could possibly tell him that would convince him, and in the end his curiosity got the better of him.

“…Like what?”

“Like… like that you use cinnamon toothpaste, you prefer to cook with vinegar instead of lemon juice because you hate wasting the rest of the lemon, and you get groceries every Monday after practice, and you have at least ten items of clothing with your name on them for work.”

“Anyone would know th—”

“And you own a fuckton of mix CDs you never listen to for some reason, or, well, you used to, anyway.” The man paused, casting a guilty glance at the mess on the floor. “And you like to use photos for bookmarks even though you get all sad every time you see them. And you watch reruns of the same quiz show over and over even though you know all the answers already and it drives me up the wall, and a couple weeks ago you cried while rereading the end of the Timid Teacher series even though it was cheesy as hell.”

“It wasn’t—”

“It was. And your favorite pair of boxers is teal with tan paw prints on it, and you wore them today because you were nervous. You keep your porn stash behind the desk, and your dick is three-quarters as long as my tail, which I assume isn’t widespread info since the vet and that Yosuke guy are the only two people you’ve had over since I started living here.”

Yu lowered his golf club to his side, his mouth slightly open and face bright red.

“Oh, and you have this weird crush on that one supermodel who does the ads for—”

“ _Stop!_ ” Yu blurted out, breaking out of his information dump-induced stupor. “Just… stop.”

“Do you believe me now?”

Yu gave a small nod and dropped the club. He rubbed his forehead and paced around the room, eyes locked on the floor.

“You’re… you’re Mr. Nibbles,” he muttered, more to himself than his used-to-be cat. He stopped and looked up at the man, then pinched himself, seething in pain afterward. He tried it again, only to get the same result. The man was still standing there, watching him.

“Uh, actually,” he started, scratching his head and casting a wry look to the wall. “I prefer to be called Hayato.”

“Maybe Yosuke was right,” Yu said, rubbing the welts forming on his arm. “I am losing it.”

Hayato looked up from the wall and gave Yu a judging stare.

“Hey, are you even listening?”

“I am,” Yu assured him. He sighed and sat down on the sofa next to his desk. He wondered if it was possible to be so lonely that you hallucinated about your cat becoming a human. He ran his hand over his face, pausing over his mouth and chewing on his lip. He hadn’t thought he was that desperate for a conversation, but then again, he’d been desperate enough to invite Yosuke over for that very purpose.

Hayato was still standing on the futon, clutching the pillow over his groin.

“Not to interrupt, but could I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah,” Yu said, voiced dulled by his hand. “Do what you want.”

Hayato responded with a quiet “thanks,” then made his way to Yu’s closet, careful to avoid stepping on the scattered contents of the bookshelf on the floor. The location of the closet gave Yu a good view of Hayato’s butt, which attracted his gaze more than he’d ever admit. He blushed and turned away, disappointed that he was so deprived that he’d resorted to checking out his cat.

Yu’s eyes landed on the pile of his books and CDs on the floor. He could tell through the clear cases that many of the discs had been cracked in the fall.

 _Just as well_ , he thought, lowering his hand to his lap. _Yosuke hates me now anyway._

“Sorry,” Hayato said, fastening the button on the fly of his borrowed pants. They were too big for him, and hung low on his hips, revealing a pair of dark red boxers. Yu didn’t wear them often, and he briefly wondered if that was why Hayato chose them. “About the shelf, I mean. I know that stuff’s important to you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve been meaning to go through it anyway.” That was a lie, but after how well lunch had gone, Yu didn’t have much desire to keep mementos of his personal failures in his bedroom. “What happened anyway?”

“I, uh…” Hayato faced Yu, one hand on his neck and the other holding a sweatshirt. “I was looking for dust.”

“You knocked down my shelf for dust?”

“No, I was trying to climb it, I thought there might be some on the top.” Hayato let out a sheepish laugh. “I forgot how hard it is to do that as a human.”

He pulled the shirt over his head. Like the pants, it was too big for him, but apparently it didn’t bug him much since he was looking down at it and smiling.

“Why dust?”

“I thought if I could sneeze again I’d turn back before you could find me.”

Yu frowned as he tried to make sense of what Hayato was telling him.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” Hayato said as he joined Yu on the couch, sitting uncomfortably close to him.

“…Yeah,” Yu agreed, scooting over a little, but already too close to the arm of the couch for it to make much of a difference.

“Might as well start from the beginning.” Hayato looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “When I was a teenager, me and a bunch of my friends, we got turned into shapeshifters in an accident.”

Hayato paused and glanced at Yu, who was watching him intently. As far as Hayato could tell, Yu had no objections or doubts yet, so he continued.

“The others, they all got used to it, learned to control it, for the most part, so we never tried to fix it or cure it. For them, it was even an advantage.” He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, letting his heels hook on the edge of the couch cushion. “And then there’s me, sneezing at cheap cologne and destroying bookshelves.”

Hayato had this sad look on his face that made him look more like a puppy than a cat. It gave Yu this bizarre urge to pet him, which he resisted.

“You can’t control it at all?”

Hayato shook his head. Yu was starting to understand what had happened.

“When was the last time you were human?”

“About a year ago,” Hayato admitted, looking over the mess on the floor. “It sucks living like this. I never know when it’s gonna hit or if I’ll be able to go back. I can’t go to school. I can’t get a job. I can’t go anywhere. I can’t do anything.”

Yu suddenly felt guilty for unloading all his problems on his cat for the past few months. They must have seemed really trivial coming from someone who could at least make his own living.

“I didn’t know if or when I’d be human again. That’s why I sought you out.”

“You couldn’t live with your friends?”

Hayato kicked Yu in the leg, letting him know he wasn’t going to get the answer to that question. Yu was about to yell at him, but when he looked over Hayato was wearing the most sour expression he’d seen in a while.

“Okay, but why me?”

“I needed someone who’d be able to take care of me long term. Someone young enough they weren’t going to die, but old enough to support me. The animal shelter’s no place for a human.”

Yu cringed a little. That last line sounded like it’d come from experience.

“I was lucky enough to be a cat at the time, and I knew if it was televised, you wouldn’t be able to change your mind or go back on it. People care more about a cute stray animal than a homeless man.”

Hayato looked over again, but Yu was staring blankly at the empty shelf on the other side of the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“How? By scratching a message into your furniture? There’s not a lot I can do with paws, you know.”

“Well, that would have been a start.”

It came out sounding bitterer than Yu had intended it to, but he wasn’t particularly happy that he’d spent so much time trying to figure out his unusual human-like cat and that he’d gotten into a fight with Yosuke because of it.

“And what? Risk getting kicked out for it?” Hayato sighed. “Look, I understand if you’re mad, but I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m not mad, I just…” Yu ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’ve been lied to.”

“Sorry,” Hayato mumbled, resting his forehead on his knees. Yu got up and started picking up the mess on the floor.

“It’s fine, just bring me the trashcan.”

Hayato lifted his head.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, I do.” Yu scratched his head. “But I don’t have anywhere else to go either.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but living with someone he could talk to was far more appealing than kicking them out and living alone again, even if he did have to take care of them.

Within seconds Hayato was at his side with the trashcan, close enough to bump shoulders with him, eyes bright and wearing a blinding smile.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning into Yu, making him flustered enough to drop the CDs in his hand.

“J-just make sure you do your part around the apartment, okay?”

Hayato nodded with unexpected enthusiasm while Yu shuffled around to the other side of the heap, trying to put some distance between them.

“You want some help with this?” Hayato asked, internally trying to figure out why Yu would bother moving further away from the trashcan he’d asked for. “Or did you want to go through it yourself?”

“No, just put the books on the shelf and toss the CDs. I’ll go through the pictures.”

Hayato started on his assignment and did as he was told until he picked up an unscathed disc labelled ‘2012-3-21’ with a folded note in the case.

“All of them?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” Yu answered, not bothering to look up from the chipped picture frame in his hand.

“Even if it’s not broken?”

“I don’t want them anymore.”

Hayato looked down at the CD in his hand. He held it over the trashcan, glanced at Yu, then dropped it behind the trashcan and kicked it under the couch.

The two of them quietly finished cleaning up the mess. There was a fair bit of free space left on the shelf where the CDs used to be, and Yu found himself staring at it.

“So that’s it then.”

“You okay?”

Yu turned to see Hayato watching him with a look of concern. He let his gaze return to the empty space.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Yu looked at him again.

“Yeah?” he repeated.

“Okay,” Hayato said, crossing his arms.

“You don’t believe me?”

“You were making the same face you made at your phone the other day, when you were trying to text that guy.”

Yu frowned.

“Oh.”

“Hey, um,” Hayato began, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I don’t want you to treat me differently just because I’m different now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t keep secrets from me.”

“I’m not—”

“Especially the ones you would’ve told Mr. Nibbles.”

Yu put his hand on his hip and pursed his lips.

“It’s that obvious?”

Hayato averted his gaze.

“Kinda,” he said, then faced Yu again. “What happened earlier? After I left?”

Yu opened his mouth to answer, but the words were lodged in his throat. He looked at the floor and shook his head.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure? It might help.”

“Yeah, I…” Yu took a deep breath. “He’s gone now. That’s all there is to it.”

Yu balled his hands into fists, then relaxed them and did it again. He could feel the pain from earlier welling back up again and making his chest ache.

Hayato let his arms fall to his sides.

“That Yosuke guy, he was important to you, wasn’t he?”

Yu glanced at the trashcan full of cracked discs and cases.

“Sorry, I…” Yu paused, trying to swallow the growing knot inside of him. “I know you said you don’t want me to treat you differently, but I think I need some time alone.”

Hayato wanted to object, but Yu was standing there trembling again, head low enough that his hair obscured half his face.

“Okay, but,” Hayato said, picking up the golf club still on the floor from before. “You won’t do anything you’ll regret, right?”

Yu shook his head.

“Promise?”

Yu nodded.

Hayato left the room and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and slid to the floor, golf club in his lap as he listened to the sound of sobbing from the other side of the door.

Yu picked up his pillow from the floor and grasped it tightly, wishing he still had his cat to hold instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MEANT FOR THIS CHAPTER TO BE HAPPIER I SWEAR
> 
> I MEANT FOR THIS WHOLE STORY TO BE HAPPIER
> 
> I'M SO SORRY


	5. Chapter 5

When Yu finally came out of his room, he found Hayato sitting next to his door fast asleep with two empty bowls at his side. Upon walking into the main room, he discovered that the kitchen table had been cleared and his golf club had been returned to the bag.

Yu returned to Hayato and knelt at his side, shaking his shoulder gently until his eyes opened.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Hayato groggily replied. “You feel better?”

Yu turned away, making a soft noise in the back of his throat. It was the kind of noise that sounded an awful lot like ‘Not really, but I don’t want to say it.’ Not that it mattered if he answered or not, since the lingering redness in his eyes gave him away anyway.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said, rubbing his neck.

Hayato shrugged.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” He noticed Yu eyeing up the bowls and sheepishly added, “I got hungry.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.”

If nothing else, he was glad he didn’t have to throw it out. Yu picked up the bowls and headed toward the sink.

“Did you have any lunch?” Hayato asked as he stood up and followed Yu into the kitchen area.

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Yu set the bowls in the sink and turned on the water.

“I’ll be fine,” he said as he sealed the drain and added the soap.

A hand grabbed Yu by the shoulder and twisted him around, forcing him to drop the soap bottle into the growing pool of suds. Hayato stood there in front of him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Yu, that’s bullshit.”

Yu averted his gaze, letting his eyes wander back to the dishes in the sink.

“Hayato…”

“Every day since I got here, Yu, every _goddamn_ day, you’ve been pining for affection from these long gone friends of yours, and—”

“Please—”

“—today one of them finally shows up and in less than an hour he’s gone and leaves you like th—”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Yu blurted out, nearly shouting and loud enough to frighten Hayato into letting go of him. He turned the water off, pushing the handle down with more force than necessary. He gripped the edge of the counter, shoulders hunched and eyes locked on the submerged bottle next to the dishes. “Just… shut the hell up.”

Hayato looked at the floor and idly played with his fingernails, trying to think of the right thing to say, but nothing came to him. Somehow all the conversations he’d imagined having with his owner before returning to human form played out far more smoothly, with him giving expert advice and Yu praising him for being helpful, and then the two of them bonding over whatever brick of cheese was up next on his owner’s reading list.

But instead, here was Yu, once again shaking and on the verge of tears, telling him to shut up rather than listening to whatever ill-informed advice he might have to give.

“You don’t know him,” Yu said, breaking the silence. “He didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t…”

The rest of the sentence got tangled up in his vocal chords, so he just let it stay there, choking him as he leaned against the counter and slid to the floor.

“Sorry,” Hayato mumbled, sitting next to him. Yu shook his head.

“It’s my fault,” he said, staring at his knees.

Hayato watched Yu, wondering what he could do to comfort him. At least as a cat, all he had to do was show up and sit in Yu’s lap. Comforting someone as a human was a little more complicated. Even with all their months spent together, Hayato couldn’t really say he knew what their relationship was. He didn’t know if it’d be more appropriate to hug Yu or to hold his hand, or if he was still at such a distance that even a supportive hand on the shoulder would be unwelcome. After everything that’d happened that day, the last one seemed like it was most likely the case. He ended up just mimicking Yu, staring at his own lap and wishing his stomach didn’t feel like he’d eaten rocks instead of stew.

After a quiet minute of Yu trying to rebuild his composure and Hayato feeling less comfortable with his human body than his feline one, Hayato finally spoke up.

“I know it’s none of my business, but what happened between you two?”

“You’re right, it’s none of your business.”

Hayato frowned.

“Geez.” Hayato hunched himself over his knees. “You could’ve just said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I already said that.”

“I guess,” Hayato admitted. Yu turned to Hayato only to see him pouting like a child. Before he knew it, a small smile had crept onto his face, but it disappeared the moment Hayato looked up at him again, replaced with a startled blush as he quickly turned away.

“Thanks,” Yu said as he stood back up. Hayato blinked.

“For what?” he asked, getting back to his feet and standing a little too close to Yu, who opened his mouth, then shut it again, looked at the sink, and scratched his head.

“Just thanks.”

“Uh, no problem?”

Hayato watched Yu wipe down the bowls, his mind still working on finding some way to cheer up the poor guy. He glanced at the clock.

“It’s about that time, huh?”

Yu lifted his head from his chore and looked at Hayato.

“What time?”

“When you ask for kisses. That’s usually around 4pm when you don’t have work, right?”

Yu nearly dropped the bowl in his hand.

“I-I guess so,” he stuttered, feeling his face heat up to some ungodly temperature as he began to remember and subsequently regret all the baby talk he’d spewed to his cat up till then.

“Would it make you feel better?”

The bowl fell into the sink, splitting in half with a dull clack. Yu stared at it, disappointed to have lost one of his most loyal men.

“Probably not,” he said, casting a sad gaze at his fallen comrade, lost in the depths of his dishwater.

“Oh.” Hayato rubbed his arm. “Okay.”

Yu picked up the two halves of the bowl and carried it to the trash, murmuring a solemn “You served me well” before dropping it in.

“Actually,” Yu began, turning to face Hayato. “I’d like to ask you a few things, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“So, uh…” Yu hesitated, looking at the table, the fridge, and finally the floor. “About… all those things you know about me. Why do you know the length of my, um, you know?”

It was hardly the most important question on his mind, but it’d been bugging him since he heard it, and he knew that it’d continue to do so until he got an answer.

“We live together. It’s not like I never see it.” Hayato shrugged and crossed his arms. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t look at mine.”

“No, but, I mean… erect?” Yu ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to ignore the heat returning to his cheeks. “And you looked at it long enough to compare it to your tail?”

“I just happened to notice that one time.”

“That one…” The words trailed off as the memory came back to him. That day a month or so ago when he couldn’t stop thinking about a certain spread of a certain supermodel shirtless, thumb hooked on his waistband, pushing it down to a dangerous level. That day he’d walked home faster from practice than usual because he was harder than the set of abs stuck in his head. That day he undid himself in his bedroom, image vivid in his mind, and roughly gripped himself for the first time in ages, murmuring curse words into the back of his couch.

That day he was promptly interrupted when Mr. Nibbles jumped from the top of the sofa onto his chest and sat on him when he was trying to have a private moment, and refused to move even when he tried to reason with him.

The blood rushed to Yu’s face fast enough to make him dizzy. He stumbled to the kitchen table and shakily pulled out a chair, mumbling something about needing to sit down.

“You… you saw me…”

Hayato took the seat across from him.

“Well, yeah. It was hard not to.”

Yu held his forehead, slowly rubbing it as though he might be able to massage the embarrassment away.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“I wasn’t about to let you jack off all over my room.”

“I wasn’t gonna—” Yu paused and furrowed his brow. “Since when did it become _your_ room?”

Hayato leaned against the table, his eyes narrowed.

“Uh, since you adopted me? I’ve been sharing the futon with you every night.”

Hearing that from the man who used to be his cat did nothing for Yu’s embarrassment levels. He rubbed his forehead harder.

“Fine,” Yu conceded, trying not to think about all the nights he’d apparently spent snuggling up to a man trapped in a cat’s body. “But it’s my room, too.”

“Yeah.”

Surprised to hear Hayato agree so easily, Yu lifted his head from his hand.

“So I should be able to do what I want there.”

“Eh…”

Hayato was staring at the floor, playing with a lock of his hair. Yu frowned and kicked Hayato’s leg under the table, earning himself a sour look from the leg’s owner.

“Oh, c’mon,” Hayato said, rolling his eyes. “If you gotta jerk it out, you can at least take it to the bathroom.”

“But—”

“How would you feel if I did that in our room, huh?”

Yu went silent and stared at the table. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Hayato’s human manhood, but that didn’t stop his mind from conjuring up the image of Hayato touching himself in their bedroom. He decided to change the subject before all the blood in his body was in his face.

“Moving on,” Yu began, running his hands down his face as he attempted to focus his thoughts on something more productive. “Could you tell me more about shapeshifting?”

Hayato slouched, hanging his head in a manner that looked more pathetic than anything.

“Not really,” he mumbled, more to the table than to Yu. “I mean, I don’t even know how it works.”

“Earlier you said you were looking for dust?”

“Yeah. Sometimes sneezing triggers it, but it doesn’t always work. That thing with the bookshelf was a last ditch effort. Even if I had found some, chances of it working were slim.” Hayato tried to force a smile, but it looked more like he’d swallowed a lemon. “If I’d known you’d take the human thing so well, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Under the table, Hayato was playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, still wearing that gloomy look of his. Even so, Yu’s mind was still stuck on the masturbation conversation, and he found himself desperately wishing Hayato would put his hands somewhere where he could see them.

“M-maybe it’s not the dust causing it.”

“Maybe,” Hayato said without bothering to look up.

“Do you think it might be scent-related?”

“I guess it could be, but then why is it different for everyone else?”

Yu worked the question over in his mind, but he was already so mentally spent after everything that’d happened that he couldn’t think of anything.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.” Hayato looked up, forcing another smile, this one more successful than the last. “Thanks for trying.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the only friend I’ve got right now. Your problems are mine, too.” Yu leaned back in his chair. “We’ll figure it out. Just… not today.”

“You just want your cat back, don’t you?” Hayato teased, leaning over the table again.

“That’d be nice.”

“Not even gonna deny it, huh?”

Yu shook his head and rested his chin in his hand.

“But it’d be better if you knew what caused it. Maybe then you could control it.”

Before Hayato could respond, a loud gurgling noise interrupted their conversation. Yu found himself blushing again and staring down at the table.

“Not hungry, huh?” Hayato asked with a smirk.

“Maybe a little hungry,” Yu admitted with a small, bashful smile.

“There’s stew left.”

Yu winced.

“Don’t remind me.”

The image of Yosuke playing with what was supposed to be his meal returned to Yu’s mind, and it made his appetite plummet again.

“Sorry.”

Hayato shifted uneasily in his chair, his smirk gone and replaced with something far more insecure.

“It’s okay,” Yu said, casting a reluctant glance at the fridge. He knew Hayato was trying to help, but he couldn’t say it was really working.

“Hey, um, I know it’s not really your thing, but…”

Hayato paused, looking at his hands, then the floor, then up at Yu, and finally back at his hands again. Yu watched him with a curious look.

“But what?”

Hayato looked up at Yu, who in response gave him a nod of encouragement. He took a deep breath.

“Could we order a pizza?”

Yu couldn’t help but crack a smile. All that suspense and all the guy wanted was a pizza.

“Is that all?”

Hayato turned away, rosy-cheeked and sulking.

“It’s been a year since I last had it,” he said, pouting at the door as if expecting the pizza delivery person to show up purely because he’d voiced his whim.

“Cats can’t eat pizza, huh?”

Hayato grunted, too stubborn to face Yu while he was being teased. Yu stifled a laugh and pulled out his phone.

“What kind?”

Hayato perked up and turned around.

“Huh?”

“What kind of pizza do you want?” Yu repeated, tapping his phone as he shifted through the menu items of the local pizza place. There were more choices than he remembered, but then again it’d been a while since he’d last ordered something like this. Pizza wasn’t exactly a food that one eats alone.

Though Hayato’s lips stayed flat, his eyes were sparkling bright.

“A big one. With everything on it.”

“Really?” Yu sat up, surprised to hear such a simple order when as a cat this man had been so picky. He decided not to question it further on the off chance Hayato might change his mind. “I mean… Right. One big pizza with everything on it.”

After giving up on how to navigate the online order system, Yu called the restaurant. At some point during the call, Hayato had relocated himself to Yu’s side, standing closer than Yu was used to having other humans stand to him, casually brushing against Yu’s arm but not bothering to pull back like it bothered him at all. Yu tried to move over, but it was difficult concentrating on both moving his chair and ordering a pizza at the same time. He pushed Hayato back a couple inches and apologized to the employee as he asked them to repeat the total.

Hayato frowned down at Yu’s hand on his arm. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt disappointed somehow. That disappointment disappeared when Yu hung up and set his phone on the table.

“They said it should be about twenty minutes.”

With that, the stars were back in his eyes, full of anticipation for the meal to come and gratitude for the man who was going to pay for it.

“I picked a good one,” Hayato said to himself, clenching his fist victoriously.

“Uh… sure.” Yu wasn’t sure what he was agreeing with, but it seemed like a good time to be supportive. He made his way past Hayato and to the bedroom to get his wallet. He picked it up and flipped through it quick, taking inventory just in case there were any chances Hayato wasn’t who he said he was. Everything was there. Yu wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. He was still mentally reeling from the idea of having a cat-man for roomie and partially hoping it was some kind of fever dream he’d wake up from.

The trashcan full of CDs from his ex-best friend caught his eye. Yu stared at it for a second, but then shook his head, telling himself he wasn’t going to cry over Yosuke three times in the same day, and especially not in front of the delivery person.

When Yu returned to the main room, Hayato was on the couch, crouched with his hands and feet on the cushion, sitting more like a cat would than a human. He kept shooting glances at the door like it was going to make the pizza arrive faster or something.

Yu joined him, taking the space on the opposite end of the couch and turning on the television. It was still on the channel of that one superhero cartoon Mr. Nibb—Hayato liked so much. Before Yu could change the station, Hayato moved himself to the middle of the sofa, sitting just as close as he had been earlier when they’d sat together in Yu’s room.

“Uh…” Yu shot Hayato a nervous glance. “Can I help you?”

Hayato tilted his head.

“What do you mean?”

Yu looked down at their thighs, which were close enough to brush each other at the slightest movement.

“You’re sitting really close.”

Hayato blinked.

“But we always sit this close.”

When it was put like that, Yu found it hard to argue. Mr. Nibbles usually would sit right next to him or on his lap when they spent time together. Hayato was right, it was normal for them, but after Hayato became human again, Yu couldn’t say he totally agreed with that assessment anymore.

But then again, Yu had to admit there was something kind of nice about being able to casually touch another person, even if it was just brushing thighs and bumping shoulders. It reminded him of how Yosuke used to—

Yu immediately filed that thought in the deepest, darkest, most remote corner of his brain and forced himself to think of literally anything else.

“You aren’t gonna sit on my lap, are you?”

That wasn’t exactly the kind of thought Yu was going for when he tried to think of something else, but it was better than the alternative. Hayato rolled his neck and shrugged.

“Do you want me to?”

“Not really.”

Hayato acknowledged Yu’s answer with a hum.

“Laps aren’t as comfortable when you’re human.”

Yu nodded, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. It wasn’t like he was going to be a cat any time soon. He flipped through the channels, looking for the evening news.

“Hey wait, go back,” Hayato said, giving Yu a nudge with his elbow.

“What?”

“Two channels ago, wasn’t that the guy you like so much in that commercial?”

Even though it wasn’t really an activity Yu wanted to do with another man sitting next to him, he went back two channels like he was told, and just as Hayato had said, there was the man of Yu’s wet dreams, directing a smoldering pale green gaze at the camera from under his wild coffee-colored locks as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the smooth mocha skin of his chest, ready to sell some high end skin care product. The man had the whole ‘sex sells’ thing down to a science that could make Yu’s instant erection push his wallet out of his pocket.

Luckily his wallet wasn’t in his pocket and Hayato was focused on other things.

“That’s him, right?”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s him all right.”

Yu crossed his legs in an attempt to keep his assets under wraps until the commercial ended and the usual prime time medical drama took its place. He only had to endure a minute or so longer before a prop cadaver killed any lingering arousal.

“What do you like about him anyway? I mean, yeah, he’s hot, but…”

The question was unexpected and Yu felt his face changing colors again.

“I, uh, I met him once,” Yu scratched the back of his head. “After a television interview. He happened to have something else going on in the same studio. He’s actually really nice.”

Yu couldn’t believe his entire life had led up to him discussing men with his cat.

“Oh.”

Yu felt himself starting to sweat. What did Hayato mean by that? ‘Oh’ what?

“And you didn’t ask him for his number?” Hayato asked, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t think about it.”

“Really? The man gives you damp shorts once a week and the thought of asking him for his number didn’t even cross your mind?”

Yu really hated that Hayato knew that.

“I didn’t really notice him before that,” Yu said, scratching his face. “It’s mostly physical anyway. I don’t know him that well, and we don’t have anything in common.”

“Oh,” Hayato repeated, eyes glued to the ceiling. His voice had a dullness to it, like he was bored.

 _That again?_ Yu thought, feeling his face scrunch up just barely, but then fighting it back into a more neutral expression.

“What?”

“You’re one of those people.”

“…What?” Yu said again, unable to defer his irritation before it coated his voice with a flat tone.

“The kind that need some kind of emotional investment before going into something.”

“And… that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s annoying. It’s like you need some kind of insurance policy on a potential relationship or something. Just take a gamble on someone every once in a while.”

That wasn’t really what Yu wanted to hear, especially when what Hayato was describing as his ‘insurance policy’ hadn’t insured anything at all, not even a basic friendship. Maybe Hayato had a point though, seeing as Yu didn’t really have anyone in his life that he could describe as ‘invested’ at the moment.

But who was Hayato to talk? He was just as alone as Yu was, if not more, with no friends or family to rely on. The man had to turn to a complete stranger to take him in, and using deception at that. And when the hell did Hayato become his financial relationship consultant? The last thing he needed was a broker for his emotions. What with Yosuke leaving and everything, his emotions were plenty broken enough already.

“Is that what you do?” Yu asked, unable to contain his bitterness.

“It’s what got me a place to live,” Hayato said with an indifferent shrug.

Silence settled between them as a wave of guilt waterlogged Yu’s thoughts. The television droned on in the background.

“Sorry,” Yu said quietly, unable to look up from the table in front of the couch. “I guess that gamble didn’t work out so well, huh?”

“I dunno. I’m not starving or naked, and you haven’t kicked me out yet, so that’s a plus.”

Yu couldn’t help but think those were some pretty low standards. He almost would have felt better if Hayato had just agreed with him.

“Anyway,” Hayato continued. “If you see ever him again, maybe you should give it a chance.”

Yu joined Hayato in watching the ceiling. It looked the same as ever, white, blank, empty.

“What would a model ever see in a boring guy like me?”

“You might be surprised.”

The doorbell rang and Yu let out a nervous laugh as he grabbed his wallet from the table and stood up.

“With my luck, he’s probably straight.”

Hayato raised his eyebrows as he watched Yu greet the delivery person, who recognized him immediately and asked for his autograph, saying something about her sister being in a golf team at their school. It caught Yu off guard for some reason, and he ended up leaving the door open while he grabbed a sheet of paper from the notepad on his fridge to scribble out a quick message of encouragement and a messy signature. The girl peeked into the apartment and made eye contact with Hayato, who stared back at her with his intense, pizza-craving eyes. The girl flinched and blushed. When Yu returned with the autograph and her payment, she stuttered out a flustered “thank you” and a “sorry for interrupting,” then handed him the pizza and practically ran down the hall.

Yu stood at his door for a few seconds, still trying to process what had just happened. He let the door fall shut.

“What’s with her?”

“Star struck, maybe?” Hayato offered with a shrug. Yu highly doubted that. It was rare for people to make that big of a deal out of meeting him. Golf wasn’t exactly such a glamorous and star-studded affair that it made everyone sit up and pay attention to who was involved in it. Then again, he didn’t have any better guesses as to why she’d take off so suddenly, so he decided to let it be and walked back to the living area, setting the pizza on the table. Hayato had the box open and the tip of the first slice in his mouth before Yu could even offer to get him a plate. Hayato’s eyes lit up again, glistening with what Yu could only guess was joy. He’d never seen someone so happy over a pizza.

Yu gave up on any dreams he had of keeping pizza crumbs off the furniture and sat down next to Hayato, picking up a piece of his own.

“I didn’t know you liked vegetables that much,” Yu said after watching Hayato slurp a sliver of green pepper out from under the cheese. The pizza practically had a mountain of vegetation on it, far more than Yu had expected. Hayato finished chewing the bite he was working on and swallowed.

“I don’t, but you go a year without them and see how you feel.”

Hayato popped the last bite of that piece into his mouth and snatched up another.

“Oh, right,” Yu replied. “The cat thing.”

“Fyah,” Hayato said through the pan crust in his mouth. “Anyfay, fwat ‘akesh ‘ou shin’ sha’ fuy’sh nah infu fehn?”

Yu gave Hayato a blank look, wondering what part of that was supposed to be comprehensible. His expression must have been self-explanatory, because Hayato swallowed again and clarified, “What makes you think that guy’s not into men?”

“Just… noticing a pattern, is all.” Yu cast a wry look at the floor. “Even if he was, we aren’t really in a position to be open about that kind of thing.”

“I guess.”

Hayato leaned back and took another bite of his slice. Yu took the remote from the table and finally found the news he’d been looking for in the first place. It was the same old this and that about the island dispute between every country in eastern Asia, followed up by something about a group protesting nuclear power. Nothing that hadn’t already been on the news for the past five years or anything. After that was a story about a violent crime that had taken place somewhere downtown.

“The world kinda sucks,” Hayato commented. Yu grunted in agreement. Normally he’d make a case for the world not being so bad, but that particular day wasn’t giving him a hell of a lot of faith. Besides, who was he to tell a homeless man with nothing to his name except a power that functioned more like a disability that the world was a good place?

“You got anything to drink?” Hayato asked as he grabbed his third piece from the box.

“Sorry,” Yu said, finishing off his first piece before he got up and headed toward the kitchen. “Forgot.”

“Anything’s fine.”

Hayato regretted saying that as soon as Yu returned with barley tea instead of water. He accepted the glass, but looked down at it with disdainful eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he lied, and forced himself to take a sip. His face scrunched up at the taste, but he took another cringe-inducing sip anyway out of both politeness and thirst. The news started its sports segment, and Hayato shushed Yu when he tried to ask if he’d rather drink something else. He made a small noise of disappointment when he heard his team had lost, then turned to Yu. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Never mind,” Yu said, shaking his head. During the moment he spent waiting for the sports segment to end, it occurred to him that Hayato wasn’t his guest, but his roommate. Hayato knew where the fridge was. He had hands now. If he disliked the tea that much he could get something else himself. Instead of voicing his laments, Yu instead commented, “You like that team?”

“Yeah, but it’s still the beginning of the season. They’ve got time.”

Hayato got up, and Yu began to wonder if Hayato himself had made the same realization about getting his own drinks, but then found himself watching Hayato walk into the bathroom instead. Hayato initially forgot to close the bathroom door, but then realized not long after undoing his fly, mumbling a swear word to himself as he pulled the door shut. When he came back out, his face was still red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting next to Yu again. “Cat habit.”

“Not like I didn’t see it earlier.”

Yu shrugged, prompting a weak laugh from Hayato.

“I guess.”

“By the way,” Yu began, and Hayato took a breath to prepare himself. There was no way that phrase could lead to anything good when it followed someone returning from their business. He found himself silently hoping Yu was just going to make some corny pun about urine. “About the day we met…”

“Yeah?” Hayato asked hesitantly as he started to realize what this was probably about.

“When I named you, and you peed on me,” Yu paused, knitting his brows together. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Uh…” Hayato turned away, feeling himself start to sweat. “Maybe a little.”

Yu kept his gaze on his half-finished second slice of pizza, eyebrows still pressed together.

“Oh, come on. Can you blame me?” Hayato nudged Yu with his shoulder. “Your naming sense is terrible.”

Yu made a sound in his throat like he wasn’t totally convinced, but didn’t argue either. He eventually settled on, “Don’t do it again.”

A small smile twitched on Hayato’s lips.

“As long as you call me by my name, you should be safe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Yu paused deliberately, narrowing his eyes, just a hint of a smirk appearing on his face. “Mr. Nibbles.”

Hayato shoved Yu over, making him burst into laughter. It must have been contagious, since Hayato was unable to resist the urge to join in.

“You think you’re safe because I just went, don’t you?”

“Why?” Yu put his pizza down back in the box, knowing he’d inevitably drop it if he didn’t. “You gonna do it later?”

“When you’re least expecting it,” Hayato said in a low, mock-threatening voice. Yu shoved him back, smile now stretched wide across his features.

Eventually their giggles died down and the two of them sat calmly side by side. A trace of uncertainty crossed Yu’s mind, and he couldn’t help but ask, “You’re not serious, are you?”

Hayato just laughed at him again, amused by the ridiculousness of the notion. Or at least, Yu hoped that’s why he was laughing. He joined in again, though his laughter was considerably weaker this time. Hayato’s laughter faded into a soft smile, and Yu’s was quick to follow suit and disappear as soon as he felt Hayato’s head pressing into his arm, rubbing him. Not hard or rough, just gentle, fluffy hair lifting his sleeve and running softly against his skin, cheek occasionally brushing against him. Hayato’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly open, just enough for his breath to graze the hair on Yu’s arm.

Yu wasn’t sure how to respond, and at first he was shocked, even uncomfortable, until he heard a low humming noise that sounded similar to a purr and realized it was probably another one of Hayato’s lingering cat habits. He lifted his hand, intending to use it to push Hayato back and then point out that humans don’t really do… whatever this was, but his hand stopped just before reaching Hayato’s shoulder. Yu hesitated, curling his fingers in, letting his hand just hover there while Hayato continued to nuzzle into him with his face. The only thought Yu’s brain would entertain was about how good Hayato’s body heat felt on him, and how long it’d been since he’d last felt something like that from another person.

Hayato stopped moving before Yu could come back to his senses. He rested his head on Yu’s shoulder and yawned. Yu glanced at the clock on the wall and gently pushed Hayato up and off himself.

“It’s getting late,” Yu said, and as time passed he was increasingly unsure which one of the two of them he was explaining himself to. It felt strange to admit it, even to himself, but he wouldn’t have minded sitting there all night with Hayato’s body against his, just feeling his presence and knowing he was there.

Yu didn’t like the implications that fact had about his mental state. ‘ _Snuggle with a stranger? Great idea!_ ’ Was he that desperate?

Even if Hayato technically wasn’t a stranger, it both felt like he was and he wasn’t. Yu barely knew anything about him, and had only found out he was a human that day, but he was surprised at how well they got along already, especially given the circumstances. He supposed he probably had Hayato’s many months of getting used to him in cat form to thank for that.

Hayato lifted his head and gave Yu a sleepy nod. He yawned again, making Yu aware of just how tired he was when he yawned back. After turning off the television, Yu told Hayato he could use the bath, and Hayato shook his head, saying it was fine since Yu had cleaned him the night prior. Yu wasn’t sure how that worked when your body changes so much in such a short time, but he wasn’t about to start that conversation then. Instead he directed Hayato to the location of his extra toothbrush as he put the leftover pizza in the fridge, where he discovered the pot of stew, sitting there just the same as it had been sitting on the stove earlier in the day. Yu shook his head, realizing he should’ve expected something like this instead of being impressed that the kitchen had been cleaned up. Either way, he wasn’t going to deal with it until morning.

Yu walked into the bathroom, which wasn’t that small, but with two people in it, it got a little crowded. As Yu readied his bath, Hayato finished brushing his teeth and put his brush beside Yu’s. He left the room, leaving Yu to his own devices.

Yu stripped down and sat in the bath, soaking while he let his thoughts drift through his head. So much had happened, and he felt lost. At least before, he knew his next step out of the pit of loneliness was to contact someone, but now, his best friend was gone, and if he couldn’t even talk to Yosuke, how could he expect the rest of them to listen to him? Especially now that he was living with his human cat, the one no one would believe him about. They’d probably just tell him he was nuts.

Maybe that was negative thinking and he was selling them short, but he couldn’t say he had a desire to be potentially rejected by the rest of the former Investigation Team either. He wondered if it wouldn’t be more productive to try to make new friends instead.

Yu still had this dull ache in his chest every time Yosuke crossed his mind, like he was empty and hollow somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, and it took everything in him to focus on something else. If it was this hard at home, he had no idea how he’d deal with it when he had to go back to the career Yosuke himself had inadvertently led him into. He hoped the caddy would be extra talkative when he next hit the course so he wouldn’t have to figure out his own distractions just to get through the day.

Speaking of, his newly human roommate was somewhere outside the bathroom door, getting ready for bed. Yu had no idea what to do with Hayato. Live with him indefinitely? He wasn’t sure he wanted that, despite the cravings of his internal physical affection meter, but that certainly seemed to be the situation, for better or worse. Yu told himself it probably was for the best, since he at least had someone to talk to, which was something he’d wanted for a long time. That, and Hayato seemed to genuinely care for him on some level, which was starting to feel like it might be more than he could say for himself.

For the time being, he’d just have to focus on their relationship, whatever it was, and on helping Hayato figure out what was making him shift against his will.

Yu washed his hair and finished his bath. He brushed his teeth, then returned to his room in his towel, an action that when he thought about it rationally, he didn’t feel should be an issue considering how many times his cat had seen him that way already. Besides, he knew Hayato had seen him in more compromising positions than that just from their earlier conversation, but somehow, when he entered his bedroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, seeing Hayato sitting on his sofa, without pants and watching him intently, Yu’s rational thoughts flew out the window as a rash of embarrassment raced up his skin.

Yu took brisk steps toward his closet and put on his pajamas as swiftly as he could manage it.

“Do you need something to sleep in?” he asked, trying not to think about his roommate’s eyes on him as he pulled up his bottoms under the towel before unwrapping it from his waist.

“Nah, this is good,” Hayato said, looking down at the sweatshirt again with a pleased expression. Truth be told, the shirt had always looked warm whenever Yu wore it, and Hayato had wanted to wear it for a while. Hayato had been delighted to find out his theory was one hundred percent correct, and that the inside was softer than he’d expected.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll find you a blanket,” Yu said, starting to walk back to the main living area.

“Why?”

Yu stopped and turned around. Hayato was giving him a curious look, one eyebrow raised.

“‘Why?’” Yu repeated back, confused. He was fully dressed and still feeling the chill of the spring evening. He couldn’t imagine Hayato spending the night uncovered on the sofa in nothing but a shirt and boxers.

“Aren’t we just gonna share the futon like we always do?”

Yu hesitated, looking at the floor and scratching his neck.

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan.”

“Why not?”

Yu didn’t look up. He didn’t want to, not when he knew Hayato was probably working him over with this disappointed look on his face.

“I told you I didn’t want to be treated differently,” Hayato said, his tone confirming Yu’s suspicions. Yu dragged his hand down and around his neck until it stopped between his collarbones.

“But…” _Isn’t this different?_ That’s what Yu wanted to ask, but somehow he knew Hayato wouldn’t feel the same, and the last thing he needed was to have someone else mad at him. In the end, he settled on a safer question. “Isn’t it kinda small for both of us?”

Hayato didn’t say anything, forcing Yu to look up to see the flat, almost frustrated stare that was his answer.

“F-fine,” Yu mumbled, averting his eyes again.

Yu took his towel back to the bathroom, then returned, gingerly taking his usual spot on the futon, laying on his side with his back to the wall. Hayato turned out the light and laid in front of Yu, his back to him, and pulled the blanket over them. Yu tried to back up and give Hayato more room, but he soon found it was fruitless when Hayato was leaning back into him anyway.

Yu could feel his face going red again. Sure, he wanted contact, but this was a bit much. He tried to push Hayato forward, but Hayato grabbed his wrist and pulled Yu’s arm over himself.

“What are you doing?” Yu asked, trying to keep the fluster out of his voice, and, from the sound of it, failing.

“This is how we always sleep.”

“Y-yeah, but…” Yu wanted to protest, but he was tired and out of sorts and unable to think of a coherent argument, especially when, yeah, he had hugged Mr. Nibbles every night, just like this.

“Good night, Yu,” Hayato said pointedly, tucking Yu’s arm under his own and going to sleep.

Yu laid there staring at the back of Hayato’s head, which was somehow darker than the darkness around it, for ten minutes. He could feel Hayato’s heartbeat against his own, and there was something so unexpectedly intimate about it that it made him sweat. So much for worrying about being cold.

Yu hoped every night wouldn’t be like this, with him pinned to the wall and questioning his past treatment of his pets. Yu sighed and accepted it for this one night, thinking that at least he wouldn’t have to spend it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly happier chapter. ;u;
> 
> To those of you still reading, thank you! Unfortunately, this fic may be updated slower for a while, since I am planning to write something for protagshipping week on tumblr, and after that, I won't have internet for the end of March/beginning of April. I ask that you hang with me in the meantime, because I'm definitely still writing it, I promise! *clenches fist*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of self-harm.

Yu woke up that morning with Hayato’s arm planted directly into his face. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been there, or if its placement had been what awoke him, but needless to say, it wasn’t exactly comfortable. He gently shook the man on top of him until Hayato made this soft grunting noise that morphed into what sounded like mildly irritated mumbling.

“Morning,” Yu said in a deadpan, only opening the eye that wasn’t cradling Hayato’s elbow.

“Morning,” Hayato echoed back with a yawn. He rolled over to lay beside Yu rather than on top of him. It was still a bit too close to be Yu’s ideal sleeping situation, but at least the arm was out of his face. Yu sat himself upright, rubbing his eyes while Hayato stretched and yawned again, letting his arms settle around Yu’s waist afterward. Yu felt his face heat up, then immediately felt stupid for it, having already spent the night practically snuggling with the guy. A hug should hardly be embarrassing, but somehow it got to him.

“I gotta get ready for practice,” he said, searching for any excuse to create some distance between them. If there was anything Yu had learned in the previous twenty-four hours, it was that his personal space bubble for cats was far different than his bubble for humans. He pried Hayato’s forearm off of his belly only to find it immediately pressed back into his abdomen.

“Wait,” Hayato said, his voice fading before the end of the word and making it clear that his mind hadn’t caught up with the fact he was awake. “Morning kissy?”

Yu felt something cold deep within himself, like his kidneys had turned to ice.

“Excuse me?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t heard what he thought he’d heard.

“You know,” Hayato began, yawning again and burying his face into Yu’s hip. “That thing you do. Like the after work kissy but when we wake up.”

Though his guts had frozen over with dread, Yu found himself sweating. He wiped his palms off on his blanket and cursed his past self a second time.

“Maybe later,” Yu said, hoping later wouldn’t come until his next life. For a guy that had recently encouraged him to ask out another man, Yu couldn’t help but think Hayato was a bit too keen on kissing him.

“But if it’s later then it isn’t morning kissy.”

“We all have to make sacrifices.”

Hayato made a muffled whining noise into Yu’s pajamas. Yu made a mental note that half-asleep Hayato seemed to be far more disapproving of skipping routine kisses than fully awake Hayato was, and then tucked that note away in the back of his mind as he wrenched himself out of Hayato’s arms so he could get dressed. Luckily, Hayato gave up on anchoring him to the futon and instead just lolled over the edge, casting a blank stare over the bedroom. His gaze wandered over the room, thinking about the events of the day before as he saw the nicks in the wood of the shelf. Hayato lazily turned this head until he saw the disc under the sofa. He blinked, wondering if he shouldn’t move that CD before Yu caught sight of it. He let his eyes roam again until they eventually fell back on Yu as he finished getting dressed. Yu turned around just as he pulled his sweater vest down over his chest and his gaze met Hayato’s.

“Please tell me you haven’t been watching this whole time.”

“Not the whole time.”

Yu frowned, his cheeks filled with a soft pink color as he looked away. Even with the knowledge that Hayato had already seen him in various states of undress, he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being seen like that. His mind really hadn’t been able to connect Hayato and Mr. Nibbles as one and the same, even with all of Hayato’s bizarre cat mannerisms. Yu shook his head and adjusted his collar, fumbling with the top button until he realized what he was doing and remembered that he always wore his collars open.

“Is the usual breakfast okay?”

“Huh?” Hayato yawned, giving his mind time to process the question. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Yu left the room. Hayato stared at the doorway for a while, listening to the sounds of breakfast from the other room. Somehow, getting up as a human seemed like a much bigger chore than getting up as a cat. Eventually, with some effort, he managed to drag himself into the kitchen where he found Yu staring at the cutlery while the two fish in the skillet sizzled and popped as they started to burn.

“Hey man, is that necessary? I mean they’re already dead.”

“What?” Yu paused, his focus returning to the task at hand. He glanced at Hayato, then followed Hayato’s gaze to the blackened fish crackling in front of him. “Oh.”

Yu watched the food in the pan, slowly shrinking into its own ash. Silence settled between them, and Hayato quickly grew uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot and rubbing his neck.

“Hey, Yu…” Hayato began, then stopped, looking down at his feet as he tried to piece together some kind of sympathetic reassurance. Yu almost never messed up his cooking, and Hayato was sure this was something to do with that Yosuke guy from before. He didn’t really know what to say. He couldn’t. He didn’t even know what happened, apart from the fact they hadn’t seen each other in a long time and their meeting had ended in a fight.

God, did Hayato wish he could have been a cat just then. He missed being helpful without having to use words. He missed it so fucking much.

“Sorry.” Yu turned off the stove and removed the skillet from the heat. “I’ll make you something else.”

“Don’t you have to leave for work in like ten minutes?”

“It won’t take that long.”

“But you gotta eat, too.” Hayato walked to the cupboard and pulled out a bowl, setting it next to the rice cooker. “At least have some—”

By the time Hayato turned around, Yu was already reaching for the freezer door. Hayato whipped around and grabbed his arm.

“Are you even listening?” Hayato asked, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended and accidentally cracking Yu’s composure. The man was looking at him with this lost and defeated expression he hadn’t seen before, like he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do or why he was being scolded. Hayato’s face softened, and he loosened his grip. “You gotta take care of yourself, okay?”

“I’ll be fi—”

Yu found himself being pushed to the table before he could argue any further. Hayato pulled out the chair and gave Yu a stern look.

“Okay?” he repeated.

“...Okay,” Yu echoed back, too stunned to manage a different answer. He slowly lowered himself into the chair as Hayato brought him back a bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks. “But what about you?”

“There’s leftovers.”

Yu made a sound in his throat that sounded like he wasn’t convinced that leftover pizza would make a good breakfast, but he picked up his bowl and chopsticks and started eating anyway. Satisfied, Hayato smiled to himself, though it only lasted until his stomach started to growl. He mumbled something under his breath and returned to the over-fried fish, picking one of them up and sniffing it.

“You don’t have to eat that.”

“I’ve probably had worse,” Hayato said with a shrug before taking a bite out of it. He chewed on it a bit before adding, “Yeah, I’ve definitely had worse.”

Yu felt like he should’ve laughed, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to make more than a weak smile. The cat that wouldn’t eat cat food had no issues with burnt fish, apparently.

“Hey, um…” Yu set down his half-empty bowl. “Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?”

“Aren’t I always?”

“I guess.”

 “Are you gonna be okay going to practice?”

Yu stared into his rice. He wasn’t full by any means, but his stomach and chest felt like they were made out of knots again. He honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be okay or not. His mind kept replaying the events of the day before, stuck on them like a broken record, memories skipping in his head and sticking on Yosuke’s upset face then fast-forwarding to Hayato casting a forlorn look to the ceiling, the empty bookshelf, tearstains on his pillow, Hayato’s head rubbing on his arm, and repeating again.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yu got up and headed to the door, grabbing his bag of clubs on the way. Hayato looked at the half-eaten bowl of rice, frowned, and turned to Yu.

“Aren’t you gonna finish this?”

“Not hungry,” Yu said as he put on his shoes. “Gotta go. Later.”

With that he left, swiftly swinging the door shut behind him before Hayato could talk him into finishing his meal. Hayato stood alone in the kitchen and crossed his arms, shooting an uneasy look at the cooking knives on the counter. He counted them quick, finding all but one in their place, and their missing brother in the sink, probably used for the fish. Hayato sighed and took the second charred fish, from the skillet, idly chewing on it as he made his way back to the bedroom.

When he got there, Hayato knelt down beside the sofa, stuck the fish in his mouth to free up both his hands, and reached for the disc he’d hidden there. After some struggling and checking to make sure it was still there, he managed to pull it out. He took it to the CD player in the living room and popped it in. Shortly after, he felt something sharp prodding his tongue, and pulled a couple of fish bones out of his mouth. A frown tugged at Hayato’s lips as he looked at them. He wouldn’t have minded so much if it was a usual occurrence, but Yu had always been so perfectionistic about his cooking that the find bothered him.

“I guess yesterday really got to him,” Hayato said to himself as he walked the bones to the trashcan in the kitchen. As he was returning, he realized the disc had already started playing without him. The speaker was emitting a familiar voice that sounded quite a bit like that guy Yu had invited over.

_“—wanted to record our goodbye messages—er, not really goodbye since we’ll still talk but—”_

_“C’mon, Yosuke! At this rate he’ll be on the train and gone before you finish!”_

_“There’s still three days! And I’m almost done, just let me—Hey! Give that ba—”_

_“Hey, Yu! I, uh… Wow. Okay. This is kinda embarrassing.”_

_“You stole the microphone and you didn’t even know what you were gonna say?”_

_“Don’t make fun of me!”_

_“Stop bickering already. Senpai’s got better things to do than listen to this crap.”_

It continued on like that for a couple minutes with different voices chiming in. Eventually a serious-sounding voice took over and the disc switched to track two as the unknown person started their message.

_“When I started investigating this case and I met all of you, I have to admit I didn’t expect us to become such good friends—”_

“Case?” Hayato echoed, furrowing his brow as the voice ignored him and continued.

_“—and thank you for helping me to accept who I am, Senpai.”_

With each new track, a different person spoke, each message the same, yet different in their own ways.

  _“Sorry for making you eat all my cooking experiments. But I’ll keep practicing! Come back to the inn someday and I’ll show you how much I’ve improved!”_

_“Thanks for accepting me when other people wouldn’t. You’re a real man’s man, you know that? I’ll make ya somethin’ real cute for when we meet again. So cute you’ll need sunglasses just to look at it. Gonna cut your electric bill into shreds. A bunny, maybe? You like bunnies, right, Senpai?”_

_“You’re the best Sensei a bear could ask for! I’ll make sure to play with Nanako lots and lots while you’re gone!”_

_“I’ll always remember you, Senpai! If you ever feel down, just remember the great Risette has your back!”_

_“You helped me realize what I wanted to protect the most, and that means the world to me.”_

All of the messages were like that, thanking Yu for his support and leadership, saying how much they’d miss him and how much he meant to them, and detailing the specific things he’d done for each of them and how he’d helped them grow into a better person. Track eight began similarly, Yosuke speaking again, talking about how they’d met and something about the mysteries of the TV World that Hayato didn’t understand.

 _“I’m gonna miss all the stupid stuff we did together and how you play along with all my dumb jokes, and… Crap, this is embarrassing to say in front of everyone, but… you’re really special to me, you know? I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”_ Yosuke took a deep breath and sighed. _“Even with everyone else here, Inaba’s gonna be lonely without you, Partner.”_

There was an unusual lengthy silence after that with quiet voices in the background that Hayato couldn’t make out. Eventually the disc changed to track nine, which was a more cheerful farewell from the whole group, wishing Yu good luck at his new school.

“He was gonna throw this out?” Hayato thought aloud, still watching the numbers on track timer change even after the recording was clearly done. The CD player stopped and whirred, replacing the numbers with a notification to change the disc or start it over. Hayato obeyed the message, removing the disc and holding it with more care than he had before hearing it. Somehow, after knowing what was on it, the disc seemed to be far more precious than before.

He took out the folded note in the case and looked it over. It was a lot of the same stuff: Mushy goodbyes and expressions of gratitude, except with signatures and cute doodles at the bottom.

Hayato cautiously put the disc and its note back in the case and scrunched his face in thought, trying to think of a safe place to keep it so Yu wouldn’t see it and inevitably toss it in the trash with the rest of the CDs. Or get mad at him for snooping around. Or both.

After making a few rounds around the room and weighing the pros and cons of each potential hiding space, Hayato stashed the disc in the bag of cat food in the closet. Yu hadn’t touched it once since the end of last year’s golf season, and Hayato couldn’t imagine him moving it any time soon. It wasn’t the most elegant place to hide something, but he figured it’d have to do until he had his own separate storage space for his own things, or until he had his own things to actually store, as it was. Hayato returned to the living room sofa and plopped himself down. He opened Yu’s laptop and typed in the password he’d seen Yu enter so many times before.

 

* * *

 

It was a beautiful, sunny day out on the course, save for the cloud of upsetting thoughts swirling around Yu’s head. Mentally, he had no right to be out there, and his swings were only further proof of that. He was well beyond the par already, and only on the third hole. His last ball had just gone soaring through a tree and into a lake.

“Excuse the interruption, but would it not be more beneficial to aim for the hole? Or is this a new training regimen?”

Yu pursed his lips. He wished his caddy would be a little more sensitive about her wording, but she was right. His stroke was all over the place and they’d been chasing his balls from one side of the green to the other all afternoon. He turned to face her, but seeing her there, perched on the front of the golf cart with her legs crossed, clicking her deep blue pumps that she insisted on wearing despite her profession against the frame of the vehicle, and her piercing yellow eyes directly on his, he couldn’t manage to keep eye contact for longer than a couple seconds before letting the guilt avert his gaze and force him into staring at the grass.

“Sorry,” Yu said, rubbing his neck. “I’m not really into it today.”

“How strange,” his caddy observed, folding her hands on her lap. “I was under the impression that you had chosen this career because of your elevated interest in it. In your words, this was… ‘your thing,’ was it not?”

A twinge of irritation crossed Yu’s face. Yeah, he’d said that, alright. He’d said that back when the guy who got him into golf was still his best friend. Back when he still _had_ a best friend. Back when his career didn’t remind him of a time when he was good enough to have friends.

“Things change,” Yu replied, doing his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice. As a result, he ended up sounding more like he’d given up, which he had to admit might not be far from the truth. He returned to the cart, placing his club back in his bag.

“I see.” The caddy placed a lock of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear. “Do you intend to change with them?”

Yu froze. The question had hit him like a train. It reminded him that all of his old friends had changed and moved on to bigger and better things, and that he’d been left behind.

“You needn’t answer that. If the question was out of line, I apologize. Sometimes I forget that you’re no longer my guest.”

“It’s fine, Margaret.” Yu kept his hand on the club, staring at it with hopes that it looked like he was thinking about his next swing and not just wanting an excuse to not look at her.

“But it does seem as though something is clouding your mind. Perhaps it would be best to remedy one storm before tackling another?”

“Perhaps,” Yu mumbled back, internally wondering how the hell he was supposed to remedy losing his best friend twice. It wasn’t like Yosuke was going to come crawling back to him any time soon. And then were was Hayato, who was just a whole different storm front all together. The upcoming city golf tournament was a storm Yu could manage, or at least that’s what he’d thought before he’d started swinging nines on par three holes. He pulled out another club, giving it a small, thoughtful toss to evaluate its weight. “You think this one might serve me better?”

“I believe some rest might serve you better than any club.”

That wasn’t really the answer Yu had wanted. He wasn’t sure he was ready to go home and deal with Hayato invading his space and making him question his mental state again. He lowered the club and finally managed to look at Margaret.

“Really?”

“Really,” she answered with a knowing smile. “Though, if I may, I’d like to take your clubs for the night.”

Yu sighed and put the club in his hands back in the bag with the others.

“You have a plan?”

“I have an idea I’d like to try, yes.”

“All yours,” he said, giving the bag a pat. “Don’t mess them up too much. I need these to pay my rent.”

“Of course.” Margaret placed her feet on the ground and stood up, turning to face Yu with an unnatural and completely unnecessary amount of grace. “I’ll treat them with the utmost care.”

“Thanks.”

Yu retrieved his tee and returned to the cart, taking a seat beside Margaret who’d already taken her spot behind the wheel. He braced himself as usual while Margaret put the key in the ignition. He had yet to figure out how a woman so graceful in everything else managed to be such a terrible driver. He tried to blame it on the fact she’d spent more time in the Velvet Room than out in this world, but that still didn’t make him feel any better about it, especially when she’d spent so much time living in a limousine. That, and she was always insisting on driving herself, even when Yu offered to do it for her. Then again, on that day in particular he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d spent more time landscaping than golfing, it felt like, and if Margaret hit every pothole on the course he only had himself to blame.

He wasn’t quite sure why she’d wanted to be his caddy in the first place. One day she just showed up and hired herself, blatantly ignoring any of Yu’s objections. Apparently her sister had told her about the sport, describing it as “elegantly slinging an orb to an inverted drum, a slow underground symphony,” and much to Yu’s surprise, Margaret hadn’t been disappointed. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself quite thoroughly for the most part, learning about the different techniques and transforming caddy bibs into fashion statements dyed with stunning royal blues. In the beginning Yu had received a lot of flak for having a caddy with zero golfing experience. People who’d been in the sport for their whole lives were saying that he’d only picked her because she was a beautiful foreigner and that he was too green to survive that kind of mistake, but the critics were quickly silenced when Margaret’s intuition proved to be even better than that of even the most seasoned golf professional.

After surviving the ride back, the two of them bid each other farewell and went their separate ways for the day. Walking home without his bag felt strange, like he was forgetting something, but Yu tried to focus on other things, like those other storms Margaret had told him to work on. He pushed the Yosuke problem out of his mind, already having labelled it as unsolvable. That left his unknown number of unresolved issues with Hayato. The transformation issue seemed to be the most pressing, so he ran through the facts of it in his head again, looking for any helpful clues until he finally reached his apartment door.

When he opened it, he found Hayato lying chest down on the couch with his head propped up in his hands, a leg hanging over the side, and the laptop in front of him. His roommate hadn’t bothered to change out of his pajamas or even put on pants.

“H-hey,” Yu said, startled by the sight before him.

“Hey,” Hayato replied nonchalantly. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, I… uh…” Though Yu’s words paused, he wasted no time kicking off his shoes and making his way to Hayato’s side at an obscene speed. “Why are you on my laptop?”

“Don’t worry,” Hayato said, clicking through a couple sites. “I’m not snooping through your collection of Zen photos or anything.”

That comment would’ve made him feel better if it wasn’t for the fact it meant Hayato was well-aware of his folder of lewd supermodel spreads.

“I’d prefer if you asked before using that.”

“Sorry. You kinda booked it outta here before I could.” Hayato wasn’t wrong, but the way he said it kind of pissed Yu off a little. Yu kept that to himself, though, and Hayato continued, “I just thought maybe I should have some of my own clothes instead of wearing yours all the time.”

Yu looked over Hayato’s shoulder, and sure enough he was clicking through different items of clothing on various shopping websites.

“You have money?”

“Nah. I figured you’d have enough extra around to pay for it.”

“You used my card?” Yu asked, eyes widening a little as he instinctively reached back to make sure his wallet was where he thought it was.

“What?” Hayato twisted around. “No, I’m not some…” He stopped, seemingly at a loss, then added, “I was gonna ask.”

“Oh.” Yu scratched his head and turned away awkwardly. “I guess it’s fine. As long as it’s nothing too spendy.”

Something about the shy guilt on Yu’s face made Hayato’s heart jump, and he found himself staring until Yu looked back again.

“Is that okay?”

When Hayato realized what he was doing, he quickly faced the screen.

“Y-yeah,” he said. “I tried to pick cheaper things.”

Yu picked up the computer and flipped through the items on Hayato’s wish list while Hayato buried his face in his arms and tried to figure out why that look had gotten to him just then. Yu sat down in the spot where the laptop had been just moments before, trying not to be self-conscious about the proximity of Hayato’s face to his butt, but Hayato didn’t say anything and continued to lay silently at his side, waiting for his verdict.

“You like red?” Yu asked, clicking to another window. The clothes were all reasonable enough in style and shape, but almost entirely in reds and blacks.

“It goes good with my complexion.”

“Huh.” Yu turned to Hayato to examine his skin tone. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but Hayato had a nice face and clear skin. Then again, he hadn’t really had much time to look over Hayato’s human form in general. “I hadn’t pegged you for the type to care about that.”

“It’s not that weird.” Hayato held up his head again, leaning over Yu’s thigh a little to see the screen. “Everyone likes to look good.”

Yu couldn’t argue with that.

“Even if I’m the only one that sees you?”

“Not funny,” Hayato said, digging his thumb into Yu’s leg.

“Sorry, sorry,” Yu insisted with a wince. Hayato pulled his thumb back.

“I’d like to go outside again someday, you know.”

It sounded like Hayato was pouting, but Yu couldn’t really tell. If he was, Yu couldn’t blame him. Yu couldn’t imagine not being able to leave his apartment, living in the same five hundred square feet every day. Without thinking about it, Yu put his hand on Hayato’s head, lightly scratching his scalp. Somehow it had just seemed like the right thing to do until it registered in his brain that the head in his lap belonged to a human instead of a cat. He stopped and lifted his hand, but before he could apologize Hayato was whining in protest.

“Keep doing that. It felt nice.”

“Uh…”

Yu hesitantly put his hand back, and Hayato lifted his head into it, rubbing against Yu’s fingertips until he set them back to scratching that same spot. Hayato smiled and relaxed again, resting his head on Yu’s thigh and making that same purr-like sound in his throat that he’d made the night prior.

“So…” Yu’s eyes were nervously darting around the room as his mind was trying to figure out what to make of this situation. His self-awareness had shot through the roof and he didn’t have any idea how Hayato felt about him or why he even cared. His mind kept interrupting his train of thought with questions about what Hayato thought of his legs, and if his groin smelt bad, and if Hayato would be grossed out if his hand got sweaty while it was tangled up in his hair. The last question was becoming especially relevant as more and more time passed, and Yu found himself wiping his free hand on the couch in case he needed to switch them.

“So?” Hayato asked, his voice sounding a little too into it.

“I, uh,” Yu paused again, starting to worry about an infinite number of other things: _Does he like me? Then why tell me to ask out someone else? Maybe he still sees me as his owner? But he’s human now? Isn’t that illegal? What if Uncle Dojima comes over and sees this?_ “I was thinking about your transforming problem today.”

“Yeah?”

“If you had that cologne,” Yu stopped again, his thoughts screeching to a halt as his ex-best friend popped into his head again. After a few seconds he pulled it back together and continued, “The one Yosuke was wearing. Would you be able to use it as a control switch?”

Hayato rolled over and looked up at Yu, sending his mind into another flurry of self-conscious worries: _Do I keep scratching him now? The top of his head or under his chin? Wait, would that be weird? My chin must look horrible from this angle._

Yu held his hand under Hayato’s head, too afraid to move it and make things weirder than they already were.

“Probably,” Hayato admitted with a thoughtful gaze locked on the ceiling. “But it wouldn’t change the fact my clothes wouldn’t be where they were when I turned back again.”

Yu considered this, trying not to recall images of Hayato’s naked body. He was mostly successful, if only because imagining it in a public setting only made him feel sorry for the guy. It certainly wouldn’t be acceptable by society’s standards to reappear that way, to say the least.

“That does pose a problem.”

“Yeah. I guess I could try wearing a face mask or something to avoid things in the air, but that seems kind of risky.”

“I could go out with you,” Yu said, before realizing what his wording sounded like. “Outside. Outside with you. So you have some backup if you need it.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Yu looked down to see Hayato still staring at the ceiling. His eyes seemed shinier somehow, and he was smiling, just barely.

“I wonder what he was wearing,” Hayato said, his smile drooping just a little.

“Yeah, I guess we should solve that mystery first,” Yu agreed, scratching the back of his own head.

“I don’t suppose you could ask him.”

Yu looked away again, forcing a smile that looked too much like a cringe to be believable.

“I don’t think that’d go very well.”

“I kinda figured.” Hayato sighed. “And I’m in no position to go ask him.”

Yu hummed in agreement, the hand under Hayato’s head starting to play with his hair.

“Could I convince you to spy on him?”

“Yeah,” Yu said flatly, giving Hayato a dry look. “Just what I need. Another reason for him to hate me.”

“He’s not supposed to find out.”

“You think he’s not gonna find out about a pro athlete stalking him?”

“Point taken,” Hayato conceded. “But what are we gonna do? Buy every scent that exists?”

Yu laid against the back of the couch, joining Hayato in his round of ceiling-gazing.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, twirling a lock of Hayato’s hair around his finger.

“Just not today?” Hayato asked, turning to look at that chin Yu had been so self-conscious about earlier.

“I guess not.”

The two of them sat in silence together for about a minute or so, both caught up in their own thoughts and problems. Eventually Yu turned his attention back to the computer and started ordering Hayato’s new wardrobe, filling the apartment with the sound of clicks and keystrokes. Hayato rolled to his side to watch, his mind suddenly consumed with thoughts of pressing the keys while Yu was trying to type. He fought the urge, not wanting to make Yu change his mind about paying for it.

“Thanks for doing all this.”

Yu shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Hayato turned to look up at Yu again.

“Why’re you home so early? Practice short today?”

“Something like that.”

When Hayato didn’t respond, Yu looked down and saw that Hayato was most definitely pouting this time.

“What?”

“What’d I tell you about not telling me things you would’ve told Nibbs?”

“I wasn’t—” Yu halted, trying to piece this thoughts together, which took longer than he’d hoped when his mind was so busy attempting to imagine what he would have said to Mr. Nibbles if he’d come home to his cat instead. The more he thought about it, the darker his thoughts became as he realized he might not have even kept himself together well enough to go to practice if he hadn’t had another person keeping an eye on him since Yosuke left. “I’m not trying to keep secrets.”

“Then don’t give me vague-ass answers,” Hayato said pointedly.

Yu sighed and closed the laptop, placing it back on the table.

“My balls weren’t cooperating.”

“What does ED have to do with golf?” Hayato asked, further proving his previous point, though when Yu didn’t react at all, he began to feel more worried than annoyed.

“Margaret told me go home,” Yu said to the ceiling. “I must’ve looked pretty pathetic out there today. She even took my clubs from me.”

Soon two arms were wrapped around his waist for the second time that day, and though his face grew warm, he accepted them rather than attempting to pry them off, resting his hand in Hayato’s hair again. They stayed that way for a long time, taking comfort in the other’s touch.

Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes to hours, and all Yu could think about was how a normal cat wouldn’t have saved him from the knives in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so  
> Initially I intended to spend the last month working on protagshipping week fic but my mind was so stuck on gay golf man and gay cat man that it was just flat out more productive to work on this. OTL
> 
> Also like half the stuff in this chapter is skype wildcard sinchat's fault. The happy half is their fault, to be specific. The sad half is entirely my doing.
> 
> This is probs the last chapter I'll be posting for a while, since irl I am moving and I'm unsure when I'll have internet again.
> 
> (For those of you wondering, I'm still planning to write protagshipping fic, but only chapter one is going to be posted during the actual week, and only on [my tumblr](http://disco-agidyne.tumblr.com/tagged/delikit-writes) until I have internet at my new place. Will post it to AO3 eventually.)


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Yu found himself perusing the perfume and cologne section of the department store he always passed on the way home from practice. He wondered if he tried them if he’d be able to pick out the one that smelled the most like Yosuke, but given how much time they’d spent apart he didn’t have a lot of faith in his ability to do that.

The sheer number of available scents was dizzying. He had no idea which one was the most ‘Yosuke,’ or what that would even mean, and the idea itself was making his mind spin with bad memories. The time he’d spent close enough to his ex-best friend to take in his smell was so long ago he couldn’t remember anything helpful. Even if he did remember anything, he couldn’t guarantee Yosuke would still be using the same scent now, especially since getting a girlfriend. That said, Yu was a little surprised when he’d heard Hayato describe the cologne as ‘cheap,’ and the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if Hayato actually knew what it was or at least had some clue.

Yu pulled out his phone to call his apartment and ask his shut-in roommate if he had any inklings about what it might have been, but when he tried to turn it on, it just flashed a dead battery symbol at him and went blank again. He gave it a slight frown, wondering how long it’d been dead and how out of it he’d been for the past forty-eight hours to not notice, then tucked it back in his pocket.

“Looking for something in particular?”

Yu nearly jumped when he heard that voice practically right beside him. He turned to see a store clerk hovering behind him, too cheerful to be trustworthy.

“Uh…”

“Maybe something for a special someone?”

Yu looked at the counter, then back to the clerk.

“…Sure.” At this point, he wasn’t sure if the clerk was wrong, per se.

A couple of women walked by, trading glances at Yu and the clerk, whispering to each other. Yu’s eyes met theirs for a moment, and the two women hurried away, pretending like it’d only been a coincidence. Somehow, Yu highly doubted that. He’d been getting weird looks all day from people in the store, on the street, on the course. Many of those looks had been accompanied by hushed tones being passed to the next person to give him an odd glance.

The clerk was too busy feigning heavy thought to notice.

“Who’s wearing it, you or them?”

“Uh…”

Yu watched the women rush around the corner and out of sight behind a large rack of winter coats. Sure, he was famous, but this felt different. Like—

He didn’t get to contemplate it long before the clerk was snapping their fingers in his face, a sharp frown creasing into their cheek as their personality did a total one-eighty.

“Listen, I have other shit to do. If you’re gonna ignore me, hit the road.”

“What? No, I…”

_I what? I have to turn my roommate into a cat again with one of your fine designer scents?_

The clerk was tapping their foot to a rhythm too hurried for their head to be filled with anything other than grindcore or impatience.

Yu sighed and pulled out his wallet.

* * *

 

“You _what?_ ” Hayato was nearly shouting at him. Not exactly the reaction Yu had expected to get when he came home with one of every scent in the store. Usually Yu was pretty talented at keeping everyone happy, but it was starting to look like it was going to be one of _those_ days.

“You’re mad.” It was more of a disappointed observation than a question.

“Yu” –Hayato grabbed Yu’s shoulders and shook him— “You came home with over fifty bottles of this shit. _Fifty_.”

Rather than answer, Yu just turned away, hoping the anger aimed at him might be dulled if it hit the side of his face instead of the front. It wasn’t.

“How much did you pay for this? There’s fucking designer name brands in there.” Hayato continued, whipping his arms toward the offending bags dangling at Yu’s sides. They were starting to get heavy.

“It’s not a big deal—”

“No, Yu. It is. You just dropped at least a grand on—”

“What choice do we have?” Yu turned to face him again, eyes locked on Hayato’s and brows firmly pressed down upon them, barely visible under the fringe of his bowl cut. “Do you want to be stuck in this apartment for the rest of your life?”

Hayato averted his gaze, drooped his shoulders, and mumbled a defeated “n-no.” Yu lifted one of the bags up and Hayato snatched it from him, heading for the couch with half-hearted stomping. Yu smiled to himself and followed him, making sure his amusement was invisible before Hayato turned around and sat down.

“Did you really have to get the women’s scents, too?” Hayato asked, setting his bag on the coffee table with the dull clatter of glass on stupidly ornate paper bag on wood.

“Some girls are into that kind of thing.” Yu shrugged and joined him on the couch. Hayato squinted a little, his eyebrows pushing down in confusion, then raising in realization.

“Oh, his girlfriend?”

Yu felt a small tug inside.

_‘She reminds me a lot of you.’_

“Yeah.”

“I guess.” Hayato took out a bottle of something golden brown and idly turned it over. “He didn’t smell very girly.”

“Tell me that sooner.”

Hayato jabbed Yu with his elbow.

“If I knew you were gonna pull this shit, I would have.”

“Sor—” When Yu looked over, Hayato had this small, soft smile on his face that stole the rest of the word from Yu’s mouth.

“Hm?” Hayato turned to face Yu, his smile replaced with surprise. “What?”

Yu worked his jaw, trying to find the next word, but finding that one had been stolen, too.

“You okay?”

Yu gave up on his vocal chords and nodded. Hayato gave him a hesitant nod back, and returned his attention to the two bags in front of them.

“Guess we better get started,” Hayato said, peeling off the protective plastic and taking the cap off of the cologne in his hand.

“Y-yeah,” Yu replied, finally managing to get his brain to connect to his mouth.

“Yeah.”

The two of them sat in silence while Hayato stared at the bottle. Yu shifted his gaze back and forth between the bottle and Hayato’s face.

“Something wrong?”

Hayato chewed on his lip, then frowned.

“You’re not gonna laugh, are you?”

“What?”

“When I change, it… it’s not like it is in the movies.”

Yu couldn’t help but chuckle at that. The man he’d seen stumbling around naked in his room a few days ago was embarrassed about something like this.

Hayato crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch, his face tight in a pout.

“Sure,” he grumbled. “Just get it all out now.”

Yu covered his mouth with his hand, but it didn’t do much to stifle his laughter.

“No, it’s just... with everything else, that’s what you’re worried about?”

Hayato knitted his brows and brought his lip back in.

“What do you mean ‘with everything else’?”

“Like…” Yu paused as he realized the trap he’d walked into. His chuckles became more tense than amused before quietly dying off.

“Like what?” Hayato leaned over, scrutinizing his roommate’s nervous face.

“Never mind,” Yu said, grabbing another bottle of cologne and shoving it into Hayato’s free hand. “Better get started, right?”

Hayato sat back, frowning in dissatisfaction at the lack of answers. He looked at the first bottle again, rereading the label for the fifth time.

“I won’t laugh.”

Hayato forced a smile.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

Hayato took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sprayed the first one toward himself. He inhaled and coughed.

“Feel anything?”

“No, but—” Hayato coughed again and waved the air in front of his nose. “—it smells like old tires.”

Yu sniffed the air.

“It does,” he agreed.

Hayato smirked and leaned in again.

“You think Zen likes old tires?”

“Huh?”

The question caught Yu so off guard that his blush was delayed.

“I was wondering if you could get any use out of it.”

Delayed, but strong enough to stain more than just his face red.

“W-wha… h-h-he…” Yu shook his head. “Will you just drop it?”

“What if he does like one of these though?”

“Hayato, please…”

Hayato pushed himself even deeper into Yu’s personal space bubble, making him decide the floor was a safer place to keep his eyes on.

“Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

“I met him once, Hayato. Once. On a talk show I’ll never be on again. I probably won’t even see him ever again.”

Hayato eased up on the bubble, sitting back in his own space while Yu took another bottle out of his bag.

“What makes you so sure?”

Yu sprayed the new scent at Hayato, who cringed in surprise and waved the scent of tree moss out of his face.

“What’s that supposed to even mean?”

Hayato retaliated by spritzing some sort of musty citrus into Yu’s ear. His hand shot up to his ear and he attempted to rub the scent off of himself.

“He lives pretty close.”

Hayato went to grab another, but before he could, Yu let loose some Melon Mango Melody on Hayato’s nest of hair.

“Whatever.”

“No, he really does.” Hayato sprayed something that smelled distinctly like campfire on Yu’s arm. “I looked into it.”

Yu paused, lifting his eyes from a bottle shaped like a koi fish clutched in his hand.

“Really?”

Hayato took the cap off of something that looked like a test tube but smelled like salt.

“Yeah, like four blocks down.”

“Oh.”

Yu felt his heart jump into this throat just then, his mind suffocating with thoughts of how they could run into each other at any moment, and what would he do? What would he say? _‘Hey, I live nearby, if you wanna come over someday, maybe. I could cook you dinner and we could… I mean, if you’re into… or I could just cook you dinner and you could leave afterwards if that’s—’_

His train of thought crashed into a wall of smoky used car scent assaulting his nose.

Yu shook his head.

“Hayato, I…” Yu scratched the back of his head. “Thanks, but even if I did run into him, it’s not like he’s gonna, you know…”

“Not like he’s gonna what?”

Yu lowered his hand to his neck and rubbed it. His eyes fell back to the fish bottle. Hayato scooted to his side and put his hand on Yu’s shoulder.

“It’s not like you have to woo him immediately. Just talk to him. Get to be his friend first and then—”

“My old friends don’t even have time for me now, why would he?”

Hayato didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. Sure, there was that disc in the closet with the cat food, but the more he thought about it, Hayato wasn’t in such a different position. His own friends he’d once trusted with his life had pretty much told him to suck it up when he couldn’t control his shapeshifting, and then left to do their own thing without him.

Hayato squeezed Yu’s shoulder and sat with him, waiting for the dead look in his eyes to pass.

“Sorry,” Yu eventually said, breaking what had felt like an eternity of silence. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” Hayato took his hand off of the shoulder. “I just thought if… if he was as nice as you say he is, then...”

“He is, but…” Yu leaned against the back of the couch. “All of my old friends were nice, too, and…” Yu stopped and shook his head again. “God, I’m sorry. You must’ve heard enough of this when you were a cat.”

“I don’t mind. Tell me anything you’d tell Nibbs, remember? But, uh…” Hayato pointed to the table now littered with once-sprayed cologne bottles. “Maybe we should continue this some other time.”

Yu looked at the clock. It was nearly 8pm.

“Shoot, sorry. I forgot about making dinner.”

“That’s…” Yu tried to stand up, but Hayato grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “That’s not what I meant.”

Yu blinked.

“You’re not hungry?”

“I am, but maybe we can… I dunno, order another pizza or something?”

“Another one?”

“Or we can order something else.”

“Maybe,” Yu said, his mind still trying to work through what was really happening. He was pretty sure Hayato didn’t just want to order something for the sake of it, but then again, what did he really know about this guy?

“Or I can try to whip up something.”

“You cook?”

“Nah, but I know my way around a coffee machine. This can’t be much different, right?”

“Uh…” Yu didn’t quite have the heart to tell him that it was very different. “Hayato, what are you trying to tell me?”

Hayato frowned and closed his eyes, making a reluctant groaning noise deep in his throat. He tilted his head and then opened his eyes again.

“You know how you’ve been in a funk since the day I changed?”

“…Yeah?” Yu knew, though it felt more like he’d been in a funk for much longer than that.

“It’s like…” Hayato scratched his head. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me when you’re the one hurting. And you’ve been taking care of me for so long, too. It’s my turn.”

Hayato stopped scratching and started playing with a clump of his hair, moving it around, but never really happy with it no matter where he put it.

“I don’t mind cooking, Hayato.”

Hayato let his hand drop to his lap.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“And it’s not like you aren’t in a hard place either so—”

“I’m not in a hard place.” Hayato said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been since you took me in, but you… You haven’t even been able to concentrate on anything, including cooking. Half of your meals this week were burnt. I had to take the batteries out of the fire detector.”

Yu felt his chest tighten.

“So I can’t cook and you literally can’t even go outside, but _I’m_ the one with the bigger problem?” he asked, voice raised and sharp like a thorn. There was a flash anger on Hayato’s face, but it faded quickly, replaced with tired pity.

“Really, Yu? Are we really doing this right now?”

Yu didn’t say anything, opting to instead stare at his feet. He knew he’d crossed the line by bringing up the outside thing, and he already felt horrible about it. He wasn’t even sure where it came from, and he wasn’t used to his emotions having so much control over him like they had lately. He leaned against the arm of the couch, chin in his hand, fingers covering his mouth in case it decided to erupt with any other stupid, useless comments that might make the closest person he had to a friend decide to leave him like everyone else had.

“I mean, if you wanna have a reverse pissing contest over which one of us has bigger problems just because I told you to take a break, then go right ahead, man.”

“No, I… I’m sorry.” Yu took a deep breath. “I just…”

“What?”

“It’s n—” Yu stopped himself, Hayato’s reminder to tell him anything he’d say to his cat still ringing in his ears. He hesitated, and then closed his eyes. “I feel so useless.”

The word stung his mouth when he said it and his ears when he heard it. It made him feel vulnerable and scared, like he’d given Hayato a reason to leave, like that was the reason everyone else left too. He was there when they needed him, and now they didn’t, so they were gone. Just then it dawned on him that he’d be useless again as soon as Hayato figured out how to control his shapeshifting.

For every moment Yu was glad Hayato was a human, someone he could talk to and get a response back from, there was another moment he wished his cat had been just that, a cat. An animal that was forced to rely on him for food and shelter and care. Mr. Nibbles wouldn’t leave him. Mr. Nibbles wouldn’t even want to, but Hayato, he had his own life to return to. Sure, he could have a conversation with him, but how was he any different than Margaret, being paid to listen to his problems, only with food instead of cash?

And now Hayato didn’t want him to provide food. That just meant Yu was one step closer to being alone again.

He wanted to curl up and cry, but instead he just sat there, frozen in place, waiting for Hayato to have the same realization he just had.

“You’re not useless.”

Yu turned to face the man sitting next to him, lips parted in disbelief.

“Even if you can’t cook, you’re not useless.”

Hayato took Yu’s phone from his pocket and tried to turn it on. When the screen remained black, he frowned and tried again, and again, and again, until his face was outlined with frustration.

“Even if I can’t charge my phone?” Yu asked, barely cracking a smile.

“Even then,” Hayato said, relaxing his scowl into something less intense as he got up to plug the dead device into its charger. Just as he was a few steps away from returning to his spot on the sofa, it buzzed to life, summoning Hayato back.

“A message?” Yu asked, sitting up straight.

“Uh… a few, yeah.”

There was an unexpected tension in Hayato’s voice that brought Yu to his feet.

“A few?”

“Eighteen voicemails.”

“From who?”

Though he doubted it, there was a small part of him hoping they were from Yosuke, or at least someone from Inaba.

“I don’t know. Unknown numbers.”

Unsure whether to be disappointed or relieved that it wasn’t Yosuke, Yu crossed the room, joining Hayato on the other side. He took his phone and dialed the voicemail, listening to the first message.

“ _Hello, this is Wakamoto from the Tokyo Tribune. We’d like to speak to you about a rumor regarding a strange man that you’ve been seen with—_ ”

Yu could feel his insides turning.

“Did you go outside?”

“Uh, no?” Hayato said, eyebrows raised.

“ _Well?_ ” Yu pointed at the phone, which was continuing into the second message.

_“—Ishiwara from the Sun Daily and we have some questions about your new roommate—”_

“Why would I break my own rule?”

“I don’t know.” Yu ran his fingers through his hair and paced as far as the charger cord would let him. “How else would they know about you?”

_“—the Morning Report. We’d like to interview you about the rumors that you have a boyfriend—”_

“I don’t know. Do you have a stalker?”

“Besides you?”

“Rude.”

The messages droned on, one questionable news source after another asking for confirmation about the man seen wearing Yu’s clothes.

“I mean, no one could have seen you, right?”

“Yeah, no one’s been here since Yosuke except…”

The two of them fell silent while the sixth phone message played.

Ten seconds later, Yu spoke.

“The pizza girl?”

Hayato gave a shaky nod.

“Yeah.”

Yu set down the phone and walked to the couch and back, then to the couch again, sitting down, then standing back up and walking toward the kitchen, rubbing his sweat-beaded forehead.

“So, uh,” Hayato began, trying to cover up his nerves with laughter, and mostly failing. “Guess we’re not ordering anything tonight, huh?”

Yu turned and looked at Hayato, his face too stretched with stress to play along. He sat down on the floor, giving in to the urge to curl up he’d had before. Hayato chewed on his lip, then made his way to Yu’s side, sitting beside him, face to face with his owner.

“Level with me here, how bad is this really?”

Yu lifted his head.

“If… if I can’t golf, even then?”

Hayato hesitated, then rushed to fill the gap.

“H-hey, you can’t be serious. I mean, technically you’re self-employed, right? They can’t stop you from entering competitions, right?” Hayato shook Yu’s shoulder. “Right?”

“I won’t be useless, right? Even then?” Yu asked again, placing his trembling hand on top of the one Hayato had on his shoulder.

“God, no.” Hayato wrapped his arms around Yu and pulled him close. “It wouldn’t make you useless, okay? It wouldn’t.”

“Thanks,” Yu whispered into Hayato’s neck, grateful to hear those words even if he didn’t believe them.

“Fuck, this is all my fault. Dammit. _Dammit._ ” Hayato tightened his embrace. “Listen, we’ll fix this. I’ll help you. Even if it means going outside. You’ll still be able to golf, okay?”

Yu nodded, rubbing his face into Hayato’s shirt. He leaned against the other man, letting Hayato support his weight while he did his best not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point what was supposed to be a fun, humorous, sitcom-like fic about a golfer and his catman turned into gay angst fest.
> 
> I fucked up. "OTL


	8. Chapter 8

Yosuke had been off ever since he’d visited Yu. Not to say he was ever really _on_ , but he wasn’t his usual self, to say the least.

“I’m sorry I broke the oven, okay? How was I supposed to know that wasn’t how self-cleaning worked? Yu always used to help me with this stuff.”

For one thing, he’d been talking about the guy ever since leaving his apartment.

“Uh-huh.”

“But I mean, at least you let me apologize. Unlike some people.”

“Sure.”

Yosuke was standing behind the open oven door, arms crossed as he watched his girlfriend’s butt sway back and forth as she tried to fix the damn thing. Not a bad view, but not exactly conducive to a good conversation. Then again, Yosuke wasn’t really ever conducive to a good conversation.

“Look, I know I’m talking to your ass, but can you at least make it feel like I’m not?”

“Sorry I’m not a better conversation partner. I’m a little busy.”

Yosuke twitched at the word ‘partner.’

“Y-yeah, I know,” he said, scratching his head and trying to act like he hadn’t just had a painful flashback to a week ago. “Did I really break it that much?”

“Sure looks like it.”

Yosuke’s face settled into a frown.

“You always know how to make me feel better, Shouko,” he said, crossing his arms as she pulled herself out of the oven and stood up.

“No problem,” she answered with a smile, giving Yosuke’s face a playful pat and leaving a charcoal handprint on his cheek. Yosuke wiped most of it off with his sleeve, but missed a part closer to his eye. Shouko noticed, but thought it was cute enough to not tell him.

“How much is this gonna set me back? I don’t need a new oven, do I?”

Shouko shook her head.

“Just some new parts.” She glanced at the oven. “I don’t know what you’re so worried about. You never use it anyway.”

“I use it!” Yosuke said, a little louder than he meant to, making himself recoil into a pout. “…Sometimes. I mean, why do you think I had to clean it?”

“Because when you do use it, it’s a disaster.”

Yosuke opened his mouth to answer, but then shut it again. He couldn’t argue, she was absolutely correct. Since moving out of his parents’ house, he’d become aware of his ability to make virtually any baked thing explode. The stovetop had always shown him much more kindness than the oven, and there was a spiteful part of him that was happy it broke.

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Yosuke dragged his hands down his face and groaned in frustration as his brow dug deeper toward the bridge of his nose. He kind of hated that it was so obvious. These days he only attempted to bake when he needed to apologize for something and words wouldn’t cut it. His parents used to do it a lot for the employees at Junes, saying it was more personal than something store bought, and there was some part of Yosuke that said “it’s cheaper” and “maybe this time I’ll get it right,” but he almost always ended up buying something to replace whatever poor excuse for food was splattered all over the inside of his oven. He tried to console himself, saying it’s different when the recipient doesn’t actually work at the store you bought the item from, but with every failed attempt, this bitter, competitive pit in his heart grew, fueled by hatred for this stupid fucking kitchen appliance that wouldn’t even accept his most strenuous efforts.

“Or is this about that guy you’ve been talking about all week?”

Yosuke cringed and let his hands drop back to his sides, only just then realizing that he _had_ been talking about that guy all week. He must’ve sounded so… so… _whiny_.

“Do you even need to ask?”

“No.” Shouko shrugged.

“Thanks,” Yosuke mumbled through a forced smile.

“What’d you do, anyway?”

Shouko knelt down and flipped her toolbox shut. Yosuke sighed.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“I have a whole week’s worth of Yosuke-isms that say otherwise.”

“Don’t make up some insulting name for my whining.”

“A week’s worth of your whining, then.”

Yosuke’s eyebrow twitched. He had to admit, calling it what it was didn’t make it sound any better.

“Maybe I do,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“Then tell me about it.” Shouko took a seat at the table between the kitchen and the living area, leaning against it and holding her chin in her hand to prop herself up.

Yosuke looked at the floor and gripped his neck a little tighter.

“I can’t.”

Shouko lifted her head, letting her fingers curl shut. After a beat of silence, she said, “Is there anyone you can?”

“Not really,” Yosuke thought aloud, his expression flattening. As much crap as he’d given Yu for not getting out of his apartment, Yosuke couldn’t say he was having much luck finding new friends either. Sure, he’d met new people, but most of them were coworkers, and the extent of his socializing with them was mostly just after work parties where they commiserated about their jobs. He still couldn’t tell who genuinely liked him and who was just putting up with him. Shouko had been the one blessing in his life since parting ways with Yu. He had no idea how he managed to land a girl like her, but she was beautiful and understanding and patient and surprisingly kind for someone with her wit. She knew her way around a toolbox, which was a trait Yosuke never expected himself to be attracted to, but with how often his bike broke down, it didn’t take him long to convert.

He’d get together with the other IT members sometimes, but it was always weird without Yu there, especially after that… thing. It was like they all knew something happened between them, and no one wanted to bring it up.

Out of all of them, Yosuke was the one who least wanted to bring it up. The IT could be such a rumor mill sometimes. Chie and Yukiko were always telling each other everything. Rise and Kanji were always gossiping to each other. And Teddie… God, Yosuke didn’t even want to think about Teddie.

He couldn’t talk to Yu about it for the obvious reasons, but Yu and Naoto were the only ones who even had the capacity to—

Yosuke blinked.

And that was how Yosuke found himself at Naoto’s apartment a few hours later. He’d gotten lucky and she had the day off. Shouko seemed a little disappointed that he needed to go talk to a different girl about it, but she didn’t stop him, instead just sighing and telling him to bring back some snacks from the convenience store on his way home.

Naoto was cleaning some case files off her table, apologizing for a mess that really hadn’t been a mess in the first place.

“It’s cool. I know it was kinda short notice.”

Yosuke couldn’t help but feel nervous, even just visiting a friend like this. It was only his second time being in a girl’s living space. Well, third, if you counted Nanako’s room, but helping your best friend tell his cousin a bedtime story hardly counts. Then again, maybe what he was about to do hardly counted either. In any case, it wasn’t going to be what he and Shouko did together, that was for sure.

“So to what do I owe the visit, Senpai?”

Maybe it was the nerves, but Yosuke laughed.

“C’mon, we graduated, right? You don’t have to call me that.”

“Er… uh, Yosuke?” Naoto made a face like his name tasted sour or something, but quickly moved on. “You said you wanted to talk?”

Yosuke took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

“Yeah. It’s… It’s about Yu.”

Naoto leaned back in her chair.

“I thought it might be,” she said, tapping the table. “But I’m a little surprised you came to me about it. I’m…” She stopped tapping and turned away, face pink. “I’m not exactly experienced in this kind of thing.”

“What?” Yosuke asked, feeling the pink spread to his own cheeks. Before he knew it, he was leaning over the table. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“B-but that’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Naoto’s eyes were flitting back and forth between Yosuke and some calculated escape route.

“No! I mean, I guess… but don’t just—we never…” Yosuke sputtered, the words in his brain too jumbled to form coherent thoughts. “Did Yu tell you?”

“N-no, he wouldn’t, it’s just that you two were always so close, so we thought…”

“ _We?_ ” Yosuke’s voice cracked. “What the hell do you mean ‘we’?”

“The Investigation Team. We all knew.”

“God, fuck. Dammit.” Yosuke clutched his head and collapsed face-first on the table, falling back into his seat. “ _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck_ ,” he whined into the wood.

“Yo-Yosuke…” Naoto held out a shaky hand to pat him on the shoulder, but Yosuke intercepted it, clasping it in his own hands and looked up at Naoto with tearful eyes, putting her on the spot.

“How long?”

“Ah…” Naoto turned away again, weakly tugging her hand back with very little success.

“How long did everyone know?”

“Since the ski trip, when you two when missing together,” she said, pulling her hand back a bit harder, but still failing.

“What?” Yosuke asked, his voice flat, like it wasn’t even a question.

“What?” Naoto echoed back, but with an audible question mark at the end. She finally managed to free her hand from Yosuke’s grip and held it with her other hand, worried that Yosuke might try to pry it back.

“Why are you talking about the ski trip?”

“Why?” Naoto blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?” Yosuke said in an accusing tone that made Naoto shrink in her chair.

“That’s…” Naoto paused, considering her words. “How long were you two dating?”

“ _Dating?_ ” Yosuke croaked. “What the hell kind of ideas did you guys have about us?”

Naoto put a hand to her chin.

“So you didn’t have that kind of relationship?” she said, more to herself than to Yosuke, who looked like his soul was about to leave his body.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“It’s just that we were all so sure.” Naoto furrowed her brow. “ _I_ was so sure.”

“Naoto, please. Just… just stop.”

“And Rise, she eased up on Senpai because of it. She won’t be happy about this.”

“Naoto.”

“Sorry, just thinking out loud.” Naoto let her hand drop back to the table. “If you two weren’t dating, that destroys our theory that you two weren’t talking because you broke up.”

Yosuke was beginning to wonder if his initial impression of Naoto being good at keeping quiet was true or not. Well, if they were all already talking it about it, there wasn’t any point in hiding anything. He was already this far.

“That’s… actually not that far from the truth,” he said, practically wilting over the table. He rested his head in his arms.

“…Interesting. Could you explain?”

“I…” Yosuke stopped to regather his courage again, mentally coaching himself into putting his story together. “I was mad at my roommate. You know the one.”

Naoto nodded. She knew. Everyone within six degrees of separation of Yosuke knew about his shitty college roommate, the one who was always inviting his friends over and emptying the fridge and keeping Yosuke up at ridiculous hours of the night. Naoto herself had a few run-ins with the guy that usually ended with her dragging his drunk ass to the station for the night.

“One night he was out, so I invited Yu over, right? And we—well, I thought we’d get back at him, so I took all his booze and we… God, we were just… gone.”

Naoto made a thoughtful humming noise, but didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, Yosuke continued.

“And…” Yosuke clasped his sleeve. Naoto caught a glance of his pained face before he buried it into his arms. “You guys were right. I liked him. I liked him a lot. And we were wasted and I took advantage of it. I took advantage of _him_.”

Naoto couldn’t be sure, but it was starting to sound like Yosuke was crying behind those arms of his.

“Se—Yosuke…”

She didn’t really know what to do, and before she could figure it out, Yosuke was taking in a shaky breath and lifting his head to reveal his reddened eyes.

“I mean, you know how he is. He can’t say no. I told him I liked him, and he said it back to keep me happy. He’s always doing stupid shit like that for everyone. Like, ‘Oh, there’s a test coming up and you didn’t study at all? I’ll lend you my notes.’ ‘You need a fake boyfriend for a few days? Sure, might be fun.’ ‘That cat just ruined my chances at winning the national championship? Come home with me, I’ll take care of you.’ ‘You need some obscure statue thing? Lemme just jump in the fucking TV and get that for you, no big deal.’ He’s always doing that.”

The tears were flowing steady now, down his face and off his jaw, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“And he acts like it’s nothing. Like he doesn’t mind and like it’s not a bother at all even when it’s huge. All just to keep other people fucking pleased as punch with him. After all the things I said and did and he was still willing to do _that_ with me because he didn’t wanna upset his piss poor excuse for a best friend.”

Yosuke felt horrible. He never expected to lose it like this in front of Naoto. He’d thought maybe, with her logical approach to things, maybe it was contagious or something, and he’d keep his cool. He’d thought they’d discuss it calmly and she’d have some thoughtful advice he hadn’t thought of. He’d thought wrong, and there he was, his face ugly with tears and redness, openly gasping and weeping.

“And guess what? I got what I wanted. I got what I fucking wanted, and I’m upset anyway. And he won’t even let me apologize for it. He keeps saying there’s nothing to apologize for because… because I was a fucking idiot like I always am and I told him to forget about it and he fucking did that too.”

Naoto stood up and walked to Yosuke’s side, clasping his shoulder.

“Yosuke,” she repeated, hoping it’d be enough for now, until she figured out how to help.

“I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed. “I-I don’t… I…”

Trembling under his friend’s hand, Yosuke curled up into a ball, mourning the death of the best friendship he’d ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter revealed a few things earlier than I initially intended to reveal them, but that's okay, I think. Everyone was so mad at Yosuke after chapter 3, and tbh I'm kind of happy to start undoing that. I hope.
> 
> Also, ngl, I've been wanting to explore Yosuke/Naoto as a brotp for a while now so that might have been... a little self-indulgent.
> 
> *stares at table*


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning came and Yu wouldn’t move from his futon. He’d turned off his cell phone alarm so fast Hayato was almost sure he’d already been awake when it went off, and then he’d called Margaret, telling her he wouldn’t be at the course today. Hayato was pretty sure he heard her ask “Why?” and Yu fell speechless.

Yu had no idea how to explain to someone not of his own world that it wasn’t socially acceptable for him to go to work anymore, that he was famous and outed and public opinion of him had just plummeted record levels. He told her, “I just can’t. I’m sorry.” And then he hung up and turned off his phone.

And now, the one day Hayato didn’t want Yu to stay in bed, he couldn’t get him out of it.

“Yu, c’mon, you can’t stay there all day.”

Both of them knew that was untrue, especially after the way the night prior had gone. Yu had stayed still all night, sitting on the same spot on the floor until Hayato dragged him to his bedroom, and if he was honest, Hayato wasn’t even sure Yu slept.

“Please?” he begged, tugging Yu by his arm. Yu pulled it back and rolled over to face the wall. Hayato felt his mood deflate, not that there was much deflating left to do. He already felt pretty shitty about himself, just knowing it was his fault Yu was in this situation in the first place.

Hayato took a deep breath and moved on to plan B. He joined Yu in the futon again, wrapping his arm around Yu’s waist and pulling himself uncomfortably close, breathing on Yu’s neck, hoping the proximity might make him uncomfortable enough to move like it usually did.

It didn’t.

Plan B.5 was licking Yu’s ear, which only earned Hayato a punch in the nose. He let out a breathy “fuck” into the back of Yu’s head and clutched his nose in pain.

“If you’re not gonna get up, can you at least talk to me?”

“I was thinking.”

Hayato blinked. He hadn’t expected that to work.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this is for the best.”

Hayato propped himself up and looked down at the side of Yu’s face.

“What?”

“I could quit golf. Do something else.”

“Yu, that’s—”

“You said I’m not useless, but I thought about it, and how does golf help anyone?”

“You’re not—”

“I am, Hayato.” Yu rolled back, looking up at his roommate above him. “All I do is hit balls across a field all day. And I’m not even good at it anymore.”

“You take care of me.”

Yu stared up at Hayato, who, somehow, for whatever reason, was sadder about losing golf than Yu was at this point.

“Any job can pay bills.”

“But you make more money doing this, right? You can use the extra money for good things.”

Yu sighed.

“Hayato.”

“I thought you loved golf.”

Yu rolled over again, pulling the quilt over himself.

“Yu, c’mon,” Hayato said, pulling on Yu’s shoulder. “Don’t do this.”

Yu let Hayato pull him back and looked up at him with tired eyes. The bags under them only gave Hayato more proof that he hadn’t slept.

“Okay, just…” Hayato pinned down Yu’s arms so he wouldn’t roll again and ignore him. “Listen to me for a second.”

“What are you…” Yu struggled half-heartedly. As much as he hated having Hayato loom over him like that, he was finding it increasingly harder to care.

“I have a plan, okay?”

“Okay,” Yu said, sounding more annoyed and reluctant than anything.

“We can just tell them we’re related, right?”

Yu raised his eyebrows, then sighed and turned his head away.

“Don’t… not look at me like that.”

“Hayato,” Yu began, looking back up at him. “How am I supposed to react to that?”

“I don’t know,” Hayato admitted, averting his gaze, then bringing it back. “You could be a little more supportive. I’m trying to save your career here.”

“I never asked you to save anything.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not putting any effort into it.”

That stung. Yu knew it was true, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I… I kind of hate it.”

Hayato’s grip loosened.

“Yu?”

“I hate it, okay? Every day I go out there and I think about—” Yu shook his head, then pushed Hayato off of himself and sat up. “Never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m your friend, Yu.”

That was a line he’d heard enough times.

“Whatever.”

“What?” Hayato asked, his face lined with anger. “So a cat can be your friend, but I can’t?”

Yu had no idea how to respond to that. Not that it mattered, Hayato was already half way out of the bedroom. He slammed the door shut behind him. Yu fell back onto his futon and stared at the ceiling while a pit of regret settled in his stomach. He felt bad. Horrible, even. He wondered when his emotions had gotten to be so volatile, and how Hayato had managed to put up with him for so long. He guessed homelessness increased one’s tolerance for that kind of thing.

Yu spent most of the morning wallowing in negative emotions. He used to fight them off, pretend like they were nothing. He’d keep himself together, and doing that kept everyone else together. Now that everyone was so far away, it all seemed pointless. Maybe that was why he couldn’t control them anymore. Maybe that was why Hayato had already seen him reduced to tears more times in one week than the Investigation Team had seen in a whole year.

After a few hours, nature’s call forced him out of his futon. On his way to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of Hayato sitting in the corner of the living room, curled up on the far end of the couch, chin in his hand and elbow on the arm, just staring out the window. Hayato glanced at Yu, but did nothing more to acknowledge the other boy’s presence, quickly returning his attention to the cityscape outside. When Yu returned, he didn’t even get that much.

Yu stood in the space between the bathroom and kitchen, looking into the den where Hayato was sitting. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, bringing his hand up to his neck. He turned away, not wanting to look at someone who wouldn’t look back, but wound up looking at the bowls on the floor for Mr. Nibbles that were never put away. They didn’t make him feel better.

Maybe Hayato had a point.

No, not maybe. Hayato definitely had a point.

Yu couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he hadn’t made any new friends. His cat knew him better than any human did, and now that his cat was human, too…

“Hayato, I…”

Yu lifted his head. Hayato hadn’t moved, and Yu couldn’t tell if he was listening or not. He hesitated, then took a shaky step toward his roommate, then taking a deep breath, he said, “My first club was from Yosuke.”

Hayato’s eyes moved to watch him. Yu took another step forward.

“In high school. At the local Junes. It was for fighting instead of golfing, but I loved it. It felt good in my hands, like it belonged there. It was from my best friend and it was precious to me.”

Hayato lifted his head from his hand, letting his fingers curl in. He turned and faced Yu, who was pale and trembling as he slowly made his way closer.

“It felt good, you know?” Yu shook his head a little, mentally scolding himself for sounding like a broken record. “Great, I mean. Like using it all the time made us closer. I was successful, and I could say he did that for me. It… it was all him. Even when I had to stop using that club and buy new ones, I knew I only got that far because of him. Everyone could see our bond, and I was proud of it.”

Hayato turned himself around and tugged at Yu’s wrist, leading him down onto the couch.

“And now—” Yu felt his throat draw tight, choking back the rest. It hurt. His throat hurt. His chest hurt. His stomach hurt. Everything hurt.

Yu sat there, his heart bare and his body underdressed, still wearing just his pajamas. He leaned forward on some kind of instinct that he might feel better that way. Warmer. Less sick.

He felt Hayato’s arm wrap around him, and he didn’t feel so bare anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Hayato shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Hayato was warm.

 _Of course he’s warm_ , Yu thought to himself, feeling stupid for noting the body heat of another living being every time he touched one. Yu leaned into that warmth, willing it to push his lonely sickness out of his mind. Hayato made a small noise in surprise, but didn’t say anything and accepted Yu’s nose on his collarbone.

“You smell like yesterday.”

“Whatever,” Hayato gently scoffed. “So do you.”

“Your fault,” Yu reminded him.

“I guess.”

Yu glanced at the bottles still scattered around his coffee table.

“We should probably finish going through those.”

“Probably,” Hayato agreed, making no effort to actually do so. Not that Yu was moving any faster.

“Probably,” Yu echoed into Hayato’s chest. He closed his eyes and the afternoon passed by without them.


	10. Chapter 10

Yu wasn’t looking forward to turning his phone back on. He was sure there was nothing good that would come of it, but he had to, so he did. As expected, there were several new messages from paparazzi he hadn’t called back yet and one very cold message from Margaret informing him that she didn’t appreciate being hung up on. He made a mental note to apologize to her the next time he went to the course, then he frowned as he remembered how spacey he’d been lately and marked it on his phone’s calendar.

In addition to his full voicemail inbox, his social media had blown up with people asking him if the rumors were true and why he hadn’t posted any pictures of his cat recently.

“The public misses Mr. Nibbles,” he said, not bothering to look up from his phone when Hayato brought him his breakfast.

“The public can suck it.”

Hayato wasn’t in a very good mood just then. Looking over to the plate on his right, Yu had a feeling it was because cooking wasn’t going as smoothly as Hayato hoped it would. He’d opted for a more western breakfast in hopes of breaking up Yu’s usual pattern, and while the toast had come out okay, the eggs and bacon were looking questionable, both burnt and slimy at the same time.

The coffee was perfect though, just like Hayato said it would be.

“Maybe if we finish going through that cologne we could give them something to, uh…”

“If you say ‘chew on’ I’m going to throw this egg at that stupid haircut of yours.”

Hayato was standing in front of the stove with said egg in his hand. He waited a few seconds, then cracked it open and let it drop into the frying pan.

“Aw, c’mon.” Yu leaned forward, smirking like he’d thought of something truly devious. “We can’t even give them a nib—”

Within seconds Hayato had another egg in his hand ready to launch.

“I swear to God, Yu,” he began, but the rest of his threat faded away when he turned around and saw Yu laughing at him. Not just a small laugh either, but a burst of laughter big and hard enough to make him shake in his chair and force him to put down his phone to avoid dropping it.

Hayato lowered his hand to his side. Yu hadn’t laughed like that in months.

Yu looked good like that. Laughing. Happy.

It was cute.

A bashful smile appeared on Hayato’s face.

“You’re a fucking nerd.”

Yu didn’t argue, even after his fit of laughter ended. He turned his attention to the food, spreading some butter on the only part of the meal that looked fit to eat. Hayato finished cooking his own meal, sliding the eggs onto his plate next to what was supposed to be bacon. He frowned at it all the way from the counter to the table. By the time Hayato sat down, Yu was working on the less savory parts of his meal, eating them without a second thought, as if it was the same as any other meal. Hayato looked down at his own plate, raising his eyebrows and wondering if it didn’t taste as bad as it looked. He stabbed his fork into it and shoved a piece of meat into his mouth.

Hayato winced as soon as the flavor hit his tongue.

It tasted as bad as it looked.

He was tempted to spit it out, but Yu was sitting across the way eating it like it was nothing and Hayato was not about to be bested in the eating trash department. He forced himself to swallow, but then after feeling the way it slid down his throat, he began to reconsider his priorities.

“I don’t know how you can eat this.”

Yu shrugged.

“I’ve had worse.”

Hayato could hardly believe what he was hearing from the same man who was willing to remake a meal for him so he didn’t have to eat burnt fish.

“You don’t have to eat it,” Hayato said, setting his fork down. “I’ve had some pretty bad shit in my time, but this is…”

“It’s no Mystery Food X.” Though the statement itself sounded ridiculous to Hayato’s ears, Yu had this sad look on his face when he said it, like there was more than just bad food behind it. Yu shook his head, trying not to dwell on it too long. “Besides, you made it for me.”

Hayato fell silent as his face grew warm. He watched Yu idly stuff another forkful into his mouth as he picked up his phone and scrolled through his long list of messages, then he kept watching even after that. He wasn’t sure if Yu didn’t notice or just didn’t say anything when he got up to take his dishes to the sink, but Hayato’s brain wasn’t moving fast enough to process what was happening anyway. When it did start to register, he looked down at his food and picked at it. Even if it had turned out better, Hayato wasn’t sure he could eat it with the way his stomach was turning.

He stared at his food and his food stared back, the yolk of one of the eggs bleeding into the toast and dying it yellow.

And it hit him.

He balled up his free hand into a fist and pressed it hard into his thigh.

“Are you gonna finish that?”

Hayato lifted his head and looked at Yu, then turned back to his plate.

“No.”

Yu picked up the plate and started scraping its contents into the garbage, barely managing to keep his disappointment over wasted food off his face, not that Hayato would have noticed with the way he kept his eyes on the table the whole time.

“Something wrong?”

“Just… feeling a little sick,” Hayato said, his second hand joining the first in his lap, leaving fist prints on his legs.

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Yu looked at the pile of discarded food in the trashcan, then made his way back to the sink. “You wanna lay down?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Hayato turned to face Yu again, and saw him wearing this worried, frowny look on his face. He was chewing on the inside of his lip like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what to say.

“Really. I’ll be fine.”

Yu made a doubtful noise in his throat, but quietly went back to doing dishes.

“Besides, you’re right. We do need to finish checking that cologne.”

“Yeah,” Yu said, sounding less confident about that course of action than he had a few minutes ago.

“You don’t want to?”

“I do, but…” Yu stopped scrubbing the plate in his hand and lifted his head. “Maybe we should figure out what we’re telling the media first.”

“Oh.” Hayato relaxed his hands and brought them up, resting his arms on the table. “Right.”

Silence settled between them and lingered until Yu drained the dishwater. Hayato sighed and tapped the table.

“You don’t like the family member plan?”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“My real relatives will notice.”

“Oh.” It didn’t take Hayato long to connect the dots after that. “So what should we tell them?”

“I don’t know.” Yu scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe…”

“Hm?”

“Ah…” Yu leaned back against the counter and let his gaze wander to the ceiling. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“I was gonna say we could just tell the truth, but I don’t know. That never seems to work out well for me.”

Hayato blinked. His eyes widened, then he lifted his head and he snapped around in his chair.

“Yu, that’s perfect.”

Yu’s eyes fell back down to Hayato, who just then stood up and swiftly made his way across the kitchen to him.

“Huh?”

Hayato grabbed Yu’s shoulders.

“You’re a genius.”

“Uh…”

“Tell them you found a homeless guy and wanted to help him out. That explains why I’m in your clothes and why you bought me food. That’s all they saw us doing together, right?”

“I, uh… I guess?” Yu rolled his neck and rubbed it, eventually settling his gaze on the floor. “I don’t know, are you sure? I don’t think anyone’s gonna believe my cat turned into a human.”

“You can leave that part out. Pretend I’m not your cat. I’m just some loser you picked up off the street.”

“Some loser?” Yu echoed back, his face scrunching up a little.

“Yeah. And I can give them some sob story about how horrible it was before you helped me. With this and the cat thing, they’re gonna think you’re a saint.”

Yu’s eyes were still fixed on the floor, and his only response was a hesitant grunt. Hayato patted him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Trust me. This’ll work.”

Hayato’s hand slid off Yu’s shoulder as he headed back to the living room table and started messing with the assorted bottles of cologne still littered all over it. Yu watched him organize the checked and the unchecked into separate groups, occasionally opening and sniffing one he was unsure about.

“You really think they’ll believe that?”

“If we sell it, they’ll buy it.” Hayato picked at the plastic seal of one of the unopened bottles. “You any good at acting?”

“Um…”

Hayato looked up from the bottle in his hand only to find Yu still standing between the kitchen and the living area, rubbing his neck and looking at the line where the floor met the wall. He didn’t say anything, instead just watching Yu quietly until he lifted his head and noticed that that the pause in the conversation was deliberate and that Hayato was waiting for him to say something. But Yu didn’t say anything. Their eyes met for a second, and Yu dropped his gaze to the floor before joining Hayato on the floor next to the coffee table. He picked up one of the unchecked bottles and turned it over, watching the air bubble slide to the top.

“Something wrong?”

Yu shook his head.

“I was in drama club in high school for a couple weeks.”

“That long, huh?”

The line of Yu’s mouth twitched a little.

“Some stuff came up.” Yu turned the bottle right side up again and looked up. Hayato was frowning, so he added, “It’s not really my place to talk about it.”

Before Hayato could respond, the doorbell rang. The two of them exchanged tense glances. Yu tilted his head toward the door, and Hayato nodded before disappearing into Yu’s bedroom. When the bedroom door clicked shut, Yu made his way to the front door. He stared at the doorknob, pressing his fingernails into his palm as he mentally rehearsed whatever excuse he’d give if it was a paparazzi on the other side. He looked through the peep hole and almost immediately his stiff shoulders sagged in relief when he saw a delivery person outside instead of a reporter.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

In the other room, Hayato was sitting on the couch next to Yu’s desk with his knees pulled up to his chin. His eyes were aimed at the floor, but he wasn’t really looking at it. He’d already memorized the pattern of the wood ages ago. It was hard not to when you were a cat and your face was always just inches from the floor.

“Why’d it have to be him?” he whispered to himself, burying his face in his knees and then falling sideways into the neighboring couch cushion.

He didn’t get to dwell on it too long before his thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of a door and the click of a lock. Shortly after, the bedroom door opened and Yu came through it, balancing a decent size box in the arm that wasn’t in charge of opening doors. It started to wobble, but he quickly steadied it with his other hand. Hayato lifted his head, then pushed himself back up.

“This,” Yu paused, shifting the box in his arms. “This should be enough clothes for a while, right?”

“Y-yeah.” Hayato stood up and made his way to the other side of the box a little faster than he’d meant to. “Did—” He’d brought his hands under the box to help, but instead of cardboard found more hands.

Big, strong, calloused hands.

“You okay?”

Hayato knew his face was red. It had to be with how hot it felt. He wasn’t even sure why. Or rather, he _knew_ why, but those hands were nothing new. It wasn’t like this was his first time noticing them. He’d been pet by them for hours at a time, after all, behind his ears and down his back. And even as a human, they’d been…

…through his hair, on his waist…

Hayato shifted his focus to moving his own hands and snatched the box out of Yu’s possession. He set it on the floor and tore it open, a task that he found was more difficult with fingernails than it was with claws, but not impossible with enough nervous willpower behind it. The box was filled with an assortment of red and black clothing, with the occasional white or blue speck here and there.

Hayato frowned.

He was glad to finally have his own clothing, he told himself. He was, even if it wasn’t soft from being worn so many times. He was, even if it wasn’t too big for him. He was, even if it didn’t smell like his owner. He was, even if he wouldn’t find those stupid gray hairs tangled in the fabric and leave his own black ones for Yu to find later. He was, he thought. He was. He was he was he was he—

Tucked in on the side was the receipt, which kicked Hayato’s memory back in gear the moment he unfolded it and saw the long list printed on it.

“Did you order _all_ of it?”

When he looked up from the receipt, Yu was turned away from him.

“You’re not mad again, are you?”

“Well, no, but…” Hayato looked down and flipped over the receipt to see the total. Seeing the number was like having a brick of guilt hurled into his gut.

“If this is about money, don’t worry about it. I have plenty saved up. Even…” Yu looked at the floor and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Even if I can’t golf anymore, I have enough to get by until I find a different job.”

“I…” Hayato looked at the clothes, then the receipt, then finally back up at Yu. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I can’t— I mean, I can, but…”

“Just accept it,” Yu said, putting one of his big, strong, thought-interrupting hands on Hayato’s shoulder. “It’s…” he turned away, scratching his nose. “It’s to say thank you.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hayato wanted to argue that he hadn’t done anything worth being thanked for, but the front of his mind was bustling with thoughts about how firmly Yu’s thumb was pressing into his shoulder blade.

Hayato nodded and let Yu take the receipt from him. The hand on his shoulder left, and Hayato started to fuss with the clothes like he wasn’t still thinking about hands.

“So, uh, you slammed the door?” Hayato asked, grasping at literally anything that would get his mind on something else. “That’s a new one.”

“Oh.” It was Yu’s turn to blush, though not as strongly. “He asked about the boyfriend thing.”

“Oh.”

Yu rubbed his neck.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Hayato echoed back, toying with a black shirt between his fingers. He wondered if it’d be that bad if it was actually true, if Yu really would lose his career over it. Then again, even if they did let him play, there was no guarantee it’d be safe.

But it didn’t matter. They weren’t dating. And as long as Yu was in love with someone else, that wasn’t about to change any time soon.

Hayato shook his head, trying to take his mind off it. This wasn’t about him or his feelings. This was about Yu and his career.

No one had any proof Yu swung that way, as far as Hayato could tell. No one but himself and maybe any ex-lovers, but he couldn’t see any of them outing him, not when he was the kind of guy who takes in stray cats, even when they’re people, and then feeds them and clothes them and buys them ridiculous amounts of cologne.

When Hayato looked up from the box of clothing Yu was putting the receipt in his desk, fingering through his other bills, running a hand through his hair, and doing a bizarre number of other distracting things with his hands. Hayato wasn’t sure what fuse had blown in his brain that all he could think about was Yu’s hands, but there he was, staring at them, thinking about how he wouldn’t mind being pet by those hands again sometime soon.

“Are you going to change?”

Hayato blinked, letting his eyes wander from the hand on the desk up to Yu’s face.

“The cologne’s in the other room.”

“No, I, uh…” Yu averted his eyes with a small bashful smile. “Your clothes?”

“Oh.”

Hayato looked down at himself. The dark gray sweater, stretched too big for him by Yu’s firm build and saturated with the scent of Yu’s shampoo. The white sweatpants he was constantly pulling up because of his non-existent hips. The cat print socks that he’d once been embarrassed to find out Yu owned, but had grown to love.

“M-maybe later,” Hayato mumbled, tugging at the hems of his sleeves. “Less laundry.”

Yu seemed disappointed just then, his lips forming a straight line and his eyes tightening slightly. But if he was, he didn’t say anything. Hayato put his box by the end of the couch, then shuffled through the contents one more time.

“Uh…” Yu started, and Hayato could hear his footsteps grow closer from behind. “Do you want a dresser?”

“I don’t really need one.”

“Sorry I didn’t think of it before.”

Yu’s voice was close. He had to be right behind him. Hayato readjusted his legs, sitting on them, then twisting them around into a more casual position. Neither way really settled his stomach at all, and he found himself pretending to examine the clothes for a third time to make up for it, fiddling with the tags and reading the washing instructions as if he actually cared.

“The box is fine.”

“You wanna finish going through that cologne?”

“Yeah.”

Hayato followed Yu through the doorway and back into the main room, his eyes focused on the floor as he wondered how long it’d be until he felt normal again. Just that morning, they’d woken up together in the same futon, Yu’s arm loosely hanging over his waist. Hayato had rolled over and asked for his morning kiss as usual, and Yu scrunched his face up and put his hand over Hayato’s mouth and pushed him back. Hayato licked Yu’s hand and Yu wiped off his spit on Hayato’s sleeve. They’d caught each other’s eyes and both of them slowly broke into smiles until Hayato was laughing so hard that Yu pushed him off the futon.

A few hours later, and the way their fingers barely touched when Yu passed him the next bottle of cologne sent a flurry of anxious thoughts through Hayato’s mind. Yu was sitting a foot away from him and Hayato couldn’t decide if that was too close or too far. Yu spoke and his voice made Hayato’s heart race so fast he could barely hear what he was saying.

Yu was looking at him expectantly, and it took Hayato embarrassingly long to figure out why.

“I… I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What?” Hayato repeated, but then almost immediately realized why he was being asked that. “Y-yeah, I’m… great. I feel great.”

It was obvious Yu didn’t believe him, and to be honest, Hayato completely understood why.

“You’ve been really out of it since breakfast.”

“Those eggs just made my stomach kind of…” Hayato waved his hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about it.”

Beneath his bowl cut, Yu had his brows pressed together in thought.

“Really, it’s nothing, so—”

“Hayato,” Yu began, then chewed his bottom lip. “Yesterday... you said we were friends?”

“Y-yeah,” Hayato said with a slight stutter, surprised to hear that brought up again. “Of course.”

“Then…” Yu paused, looking at the floor. “I don’t want you to keep secrets from me either.”

Hayato felt something inside him freeze over.

Anything else. He’d tell Yu literally anything else. If Yu just asked about anything else, Hayato would spill it in a heartbeat, but…

There was no fucking way he could just say ‘Hey, um, so I kind of just realized I have a big ass crush on you. I hope that’s not weird for you as my owner or anything. I know you like someone else, so it’s all cool if you don’t feel the same. Don’t even worry about it. P.S. I’ve been thinking about your hands all morning.’

Hayato could already feel the sweat gathering in his palms.

“Especially if you’re sick,” Yu added.

Hayato laughed nervously.

“I’m okay, Yu. I promise.”

“If you need to lay down—”

“I swear I’m fine!”

Hayato took the bottle he’d opened earlier from the table and sprayed it on himself to make a point, but only ended up making himself cough. He waved away the cloud of ocean salt scent and shoved the bottle into the bag of already checked cologne. Yu sighed and picked up a bottle of his own, peeling off the plastic seal and giving it a light spray into the air between them. Hayato leaned in to sniff it.

“Still nothing?”

“Still nothing.”

They kept at it for a while with no tangible results, occasionally commenting on the ones they liked and disliked, Hayato making half-sarcastic mental notes about what scents he should give to Yu and Zen on their wedding day. The number of bottles on the table slowly dwindled.

“We’re running out of options,” Yu said with a small frown.

“…Yeah.” Hayato had a matching frown. He couldn’t believe that even after Yu had bought the whole damn perfume and cologne department that they still couldn’t find the right scent.

“Hey, Hayato?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it possible Yosuke’s scent was, uh… not store-bought?”

“What? Like homemade?”

“Like not cologne.”

Hayato crossed his arms and closed his eyes, trying to remember back that far.

“Maybe.”

“What did it smell like? Besides cheap.”

Hayato rubbed his forehead and opened his eyes. He was starting to get a headache, and he wasn’t sure if it was all the cologne in the air or the memory of Yosuke that was causing it.

“I don’t know? Gas station? It was bad, anyway.”

Yu raised his eyebrows a little. He didn’t remember Yosuke smelling that horrible, but maybe his senses had been a little dull that day.

“Maybe he farted?”

“If a fart was all it took to make me change, it wouldn’t have taken me a whole year to turn human again.”

“I guess,” Yu conceded, sounding a little more disappointed than Hayato would have liked. Hayato couldn’t help but wonder if Yu wanted to pass gas in his face that badly.

“There’s still a few bottles left,” Hayato pointed out, not wanting to waste any more thoughts on farts. Yu picked up one of the remaining bottles and opened it, sniffing at it before spraying it on his wrist.

“This one’s not bad,” Yu said, holding out his arm for Hayato to smell too. Hayato leaned forward.

The scent was nostalgic somehow. He’d definitely smelled it somewhere before. Hayato closed his eyes and tried to place it. He thought he heard Yu spray it again, but it seemed far away, despite how very close Yu’s arm was. Really close. Right against Hayato’s face.

“Hayato?”

Hayato opened his eyes. Yu was sitting there. He was beautiful. Not that he wasn’t normally good looking, but just then, for some reason or another, during the time Hayato had his eyes closed, Yu had gone from being a pretty handsome guy to Greek Adonis.

“How’d you do that?” he asked softly, leaning in closer, straddling one of Yu’s knees and putting a hand down beside Yu’s hip. His face hit a second wave of the scent, probably the same one he’d heard earlier, and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but it felt good somehow.

“Do what?” Yu asked nervously, trying to back up, but instead slipping up and falling on his back. Hayato looked down at him. He kept getting more attractive, laying there between Hayato’s hands, his eyes wide and his lips parted and his hair mussed up and falling on his forehead in patches that let his eyebrows show. His neck was bare, only marked with beautiful lines leading down to his chest, only slightly exposed by his open collar.

Hayato had started to lower his face toward Yu’s neck when he felt something hit him below. It took him a moment to realize Yu’s knee was in his crotch, but when he did, the pain shot through his body and cleared the haze over his senses.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No—” Hayato squeaked through his pain. “It’s my… ngh…”

 _Only Yu would apologize at a time like this_ , Hayato thought to himself. He pulled back until he was completely off of Yu, and then toppled over into a ball, reached down and—

Hayato felt the blood drain from his face when his hands found a fully erect penis standing between his legs.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

“Are you okay?”

Hayato wanted to scream. The last thing he was just then was ‘okay.’ He’d pretty much made his feelings obvious to the only person in the world whose opinion he actually cared about, only to be kneed in the boner. The boner he was pretty sure Yu could feel when he hit it. God, Hayato had already felt horrible when he realized how creepy he must have seemed just then, looming over Yu like some kind of predator, but then to find out he’d been hard the whole time in addition to that was just too much.

He fought the pain the best he could, and doubled over, he stumbled to the bathroom and locked the door shut behind him. He could hear Yu calling his name from the other side of the door.

“Hayato, hey! What’s wrong? Hayato!”

Hayato unlocked the door and opened it just enough to see Yu’s worried face looking back at him.

“I’m… I’m fine.”

“Are… uh…” Yu rubbed his neck. “Are you turning back, or…”

Hayato looked down, meaning to look at the floor, but only seeing the lump in his pants instead. He instinctively pulled the door closed a little more, making the sliver of vision between them even thinner.

“No, but, um… what was that scent just now?”

“Uh…” Yu retrieved the bottle from the floor where he’d dropped it after… well, whatever that was. “Lavender?”

Hayato was chewing on his lip and pulling his shirt down in hopes of hiding his issue. Yu frowned, looking over the bottle, spraying a little in the air and sniffing it again. He read the back again, then his face went blank, then thoughtful.

“Hayato.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Does catnip still affect you when you’re human?”

Hayato looked up at Yu, his face bright red and rigid with frustration.

“Hell if I know!” he said, far louder and more defensively than he’d meant to, but Yu only just looked at him curiously, then walked to the closet and came back with an unopened cat toy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hayato asked as Yu started to tear open the packaging.

“Just testing a theory.”

Yu held the small toy fish just outside the door opening, wiggling it around. Hayato couldn’t help but find that offensive, no matter how much the fish reeked of this weird scent that made him want to tear it open and spill its guts all over himself and grind them into—

Before he could stop himself, his hand shot through the doorway at the fish. Yu pulled it just out of his reach and Hayato fell face first into the hallway.

“So it does,” Yu said, more to himself than Hayato, who was sitting up and rubbing the bruise forming on his forehead.

“So what if it does?” Hayato said back, leaping at the fish again. Yu easily dodged with a quick sidestep and Hayato landed against the wall.

“That’s interesting.”

“Just—” Hayato stood himself back up. “Give me the damn fish!”

He lurched at Yu again, this time hitting his target and taking both Yu and the fish to the floor with him. He wrestled the fish out of Yu’s grip and started scratching at it violently. It didn’t take long for him to grow irritated with how ineffective his fingernails were and to resort to pulling it open with his teeth.

“Hayato.”

“Hm?”

“Can you not do that on my chest?”

Hayato already had the fish’s stomach torn away from the rest and hanging from his teeth while the catnip spilled out onto Yu’s shirt. He looked down at the scene below him, and realizing how he was straddling Yu’s abdomen and still hard, half a cat toy in his mouth, his jaw fell open letting the remains of the fish fall out as his face burned with a heat that would put hellfire to shame.

He bolted back to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Hayato, wait! I… uh…” Yu sat up and scratched the back of his head. He brushed the debris of the catnip fish off of his chest and into his hand, then took it to the trashcan. He looked at the bathroom door and fixed his hair while he tried to think of what to say. He walked up to the bathroom door.

“Listen, that was…” Yu ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “…mean, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Hayato didn’t say anything back, but Yu could hear something that sounded a lot like sniffing and gasping.

_He’s… he’s not crying, is he?_

“Hayato, I mean it, that was really horrible of me, and I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Hayato was sitting on the floor on the other side, leaning back against the door, wiping away his tears with the sleeves of Yu’s sweater. He stared at the erection between his legs.

“I hate you,” he whimpered, pushing it away from himself and pressing his legs closed. “I hate you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8|
> 
> And I thought maybe this chapter wouldn't end with someone crying.
> 
> Damn.


	11. Chapter 11

“I hate you!”

Those were the only words Yu heard from the other side of the door. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. He leaned back against the door and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So much for having friends again,” he said quietly. The sensible part of himself told him that this wasn’t like the Yosuke thing, and that Hayato was probably just mad and he’d get over it eventually, but the part of Yu that’d spent the last year and a half alone was screaming, telling him he’d irreparably fucked up the only friendship he’d had in ages. That when Hayato finally came out of that bathroom he was going to take his whole box of possessions and leave. Or maybe he’d be so mad he wouldn’t even want that. Maybe he’d just take enough to not be naked and book it out of there.

He felt his gut tie into knots as he grew more and more stressed out over whether or not Hayato would choose to stay or not.

He turned around to face the door again, and pounded on it.

“Hayato, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I…” His fist slid down the door and fell to his side. His head rested against the wood. “I don’t…” His breath went short and his eyes grew glossy with tears. “I-I don’t want to be alone again, so…”

_So what?_

It was selfish to expect Hayato to stick around just because he was lonely. Yu knew that. It wasn’t Hayato’s fault he didn’t have any friends.

He could still hear sniffling from the other side of the door, but it’d grown quieter. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

The doorbell rang for the second time that day. Yu stared at the front door, hesitant to approach it. It couldn’t be the delivery person this time, or if it was, he was going to be pissed from having the door slammed in his face. Yu thought about ignoring it. He thought about going back to sleep and pretending the morning hadn’t happened. Pretending that Hayato didn’t hate him and that his career wasn’t on the ropes.

Yu gathered his courage and checked the peephole. He pulled back, blinked, then checked again before trying to swing the door open only to be thwarted by the lock. Yu laughed at himself tensely as he undid the lock and tore the door open.

A familiar red and green duo stood before him, smiling. Yukiko and Chie looked exactly as Yu remembered them, save for a couple of recent haircuts.

“Hey, we thought we’d…” Chie began, but her train of thought halted when she saw the stream of tears running down Yu’s face. “Uh…”

“Visit, Chie,” Yukiko reminded her, but it didn’t matter. Before Chie could continue, Yu was throwing his arms around them and sobbing into their shoulders. The two girls exchanged worried glances as their shoulders grew damp with their friend’s tears.

“Are… are you okay?” Chie asked as she awkwardly patted Yu’s back.

“It’s probably been a hard week,” Yukiko said, as if Yu wasn’t standing right there, but he laughed. That sounded exactly like something she’d say, and he was glad to hear it, despite what an understatement it was. Honestly, the two of them could have said anything and he’d have been grateful just to hear it from them.

“Come in,” he told them as he pulled back and wiped his face under one eye and then the other. He took Chie and Yukiko’s hands and pulled them through the doorway with a little too much enthusiasm, barely giving them time to slip out of their shoes.

“It stinks in here,” Yukiko said with her nose scrunched up. Chie elbowed her.

“Don’t say it like th—”

“It sure does,” Yu agreed with a smile as he led them to the couch and started clearing the cologne bottles from the table.

“Do you need help?” Chie asked, starting to reach for one of the bottles.

“I got it,” Yu insisted, swiping away the scent before Chie could reach it. Chie gave him a small frown, but sat down without an argument. Yukiko quietly joined her, intently reading the labels on the bottles.

“Why do you have so many anyway?” Chie crossed her arms.

Yu froze, glanced at Chie, and then turned away, scratching his head as he tried to think of a realistic excuse. Before he could come up with one, Yukiko had already come up with her own theory.

“Oh! Maybe it’s for a secret golf technique.”

Silence hung over them for a moment, and Yu opened his mouth to provide a more believable story, only to be interrupted.

“Really?” Chie tilted her head. “Like it’s actually a smoke bomb?”

There wasn’t a single trace of sarcasm in her voice and Yu was beginning to wonder exactly what kind of game those two thought golf was.

“Oh, no. You wear a strong scent and then stand upwind from your foe to create a distraction.”

“Isn’t that kind of like cheating?”

Yukiko put a finger to her chin.

“I don’t think so? I mean, golf is a game of wits, right, Yu?”

They both looked at Yu.

“Uh…” He turned away from them, but he could still feel their gazes boring into his head. “Yeah.”

Yu took the last stray bottle off the table and set the collection of scents aside before heading toward the kitchen.

“So… what’s up?” Chie asked as Yu took three glasses out of the cupboard.

“Oh, you know.” Yu shot a glance to the bathroom door. “The usual.” He opened the fridge and picked up the soda only to find it was a lot lighter than he remembered it being. It didn’t have enough for even one glass left. The apple tea and orange juice were nearly empty, too. Yu frowned to himself, briefly wondering if Hayato drank it all until he lifted his head to see Yukiko and Chie whispering to each other. His eyes met Yukiko’s, and she stopped and nodded to Chie, who turned to face him with a nervous smile.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Chie looked at the floor, playing with the cuff of her sleeve while she struggled to find the words.

“You were crying,” Yukiko finished simply.

“I guess I was.” Yu afforded himself a small laugh, then took the barley tea from the fridge and closed the door. He poured it into the glasses.

“Did something happen? You know, other than…”

Yu felt his eyes water up again, but he fought it back and shook his head.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, bringing their drinks over.

“It’s no problem at all.” Yukiko picked up her glass. “But is everything really okay?”

Yu kept his eyes down as he sat across the table from them on the floor. He knew the answer to that question. Hayato was still on the other side of that bathroom door, probably still upset, maybe even still crying. He’d been silent since Chie and Yukiko arrived though, which Yu was thankful for. Yu wasn’t sure how he’d explain away a crying man in his bathroom to a couple of friends he hadn’t seen in over a year, even if they did believe the cat thing.

God, the cat thing. It was only a matter of time before they asked him where his cat was. Yu could already feel the sweat gathering in his palms.

“We came over because we heard the rumors on TV, and…” Chie scratched her head. “We thought you might like some support.”

Yukiko nodded. “I know what it’s like to have reporters breathing down your neck. They’re really terrible.”

“Yeah,” Yu said, not bothering to look up. “They’re… something.”

“Are you dealing with them okay?”

“I guess.”

The silence lingered a little too long, and Yukiko and Chie were sharing more worried looks. Yu failed to notice, his mind still working out where he supposedly left his cat for the day.

“Um, Yu?”

Chie’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he finally looked back up at her.

“Yeah?”

“Listen, like… not to be that person, but…”

“‘Are the rumors true?’” Yu said for her.

“…Yeah.” Chie looked down into her tea. “I mean, if you don’t wanna say, that’s totally fine! I just…”

“No, it’s fine.” Yu shook his head. “Of course you’d wonder.”

“Sorry.” Chie hung her head and traced the edge of her glass with her index finger. There was another silence as Yu chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out what to say.

“Well?” Yukiko asked, leaning forward a little too enthusiastically. “Are they?”

“N-no, but…” Yu stuttered out.

 _But? But what?_ He asked himself as dread started to prick at the edges of his mind.

“But what?” the two girls asked in unison, making Yu both jump and wonder when they’d mastered that. Chie was leaning forward too now, and Yu knew more than just his palms were sweating.

_But I adopted a cat person? He’s hiding in the bathroom right now? He’s mad at me for embarrassing him with a toy fish?_

Yu shook his head and clenched his fist, deciding it was better to sacrifice himself than to lose any more friends over telling them about his bizarre living situation.

“I…” Yu squeezed his eyes shut. “I like men.”

There was a short pause that felt like an eternity despite its length; maybe it was because Yu was holding his breath for those few seconds after his confession.

“Oh,” Chie said, sounding… disappointed?

Yu opened his eyes again to see Chie and Yukiko sitting back on the couch again, sipping their tea like nothing had happened.

“Is that all?” Yukiko asked, tilting her head.

“…Sorry?”

“It’s just…” Chie looked over to Yukiko, then back to Yu. “We already knew that.”

Yu opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He rested his elbows on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his gaze locked on the table and brows furrowed as he tried to remember a time when they could have figured it out. After coming up with nothing, he looked up at them and asked, “How?”

Yukiko blinked.

“Well, you were dating Yosuke for a while, weren’t you?”

Her words felt more like a punch to the gut than a question, and Yu couldn’t help but wrap his arms around his stomach as though he’d actually been hit.

“Yukiko! You can’t just say that to his face!”

“Why n—” Yukiko looked over to Yu and saw the way he was curled over the table like a wilting flower. “Oh!” she gasped, her hands rushing to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry!”

“I-it’s okay,” Yu lied, though the way he was shaking destroyed his credibility.  “I wasn’t— We weren’t…”

“Wait, really?” Chie blurted out before she could remember her manners, and it hit Yu like a stake through the heart.

“R-really,” Yu managed to say before burying his face in his arms on the table.

“Oh my god, sorry! I didn’t mean…”

A “No, it’s… it’s fine” found its way through Yu’s arms somehow, though it was obvious it wasn’t fine at all. Chie and Yukiko set their drinks down with a pair of clunks and rushed to his sides, kneeling next to him and placing their hands on his shoulders.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Yu lifted his head.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back and stretching himself out on the floor, eyes on the ceiling. “I’m just tired.”

“Are you getting enough sleep?” Yukiko asked, and Yu let the question pull a small, fleeting smile out of him.

“Of this whole Yosuke thing, I mean.” The two girls looked at each other, then back at Yu. “Having someone like that, someone you depend on, just… just exit your life so suddenly. And you’d think that’d be it, right?” He turned his head to Chie, then Yukiko, then back to the ceiling. “But it isn’t. Every moment you used to spend with them that you spend alone now, you think about it. It keeps coming back and dragging you down. It’s exhausting.”

It grew quiet between them. Yukiko laid down beside Yu, hands folded over her stomach. Chie followed suit, her own hands behind her head. No one spoke as the three of them gazed at the ceiling for several minutes. The only sounds in the room were that of their breathing and the clock on the wall.

Chie was the one to break the silence.

“What happened between you guys anyway?”

Yu gave her a prolonged glance before letting his eyes go back to the ceiling.

“We were drunk and I said something I shouldn’t have.”

Yukiko hummed in thought. “But doesn’t Yosuke do that all the time?”

Yu couldn’t help but laugh at that, if only weakly.

“I guess so,” he admitted.

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“I invited him over…” Yu turned to the calendar on the wall. The day of Yosuke’s visit had been marked in red, but now it was scribbled out with black. Yu couldn’t remember doing that. He wondered if Hayato had really been that upset on his behalf, and why he didn’t notice sooner. “Almost a week ago?” Yu let his head roll back to its original position. “It didn’t go so well.”

“He never was good at that kind of thing,” Chie said, her lack of surprise tugging her mouth into a frown.

“I wonder if I’m not so good at it myself,” Yu said, closing his eyes.

The three of them heaved a collective sigh.

Yu opened his eyes again and let them wander the patterns on the ceiling.

“Maybe you should try again. Listen to what he has to say.”

Yu turned to Yukiko, only to see her sitting up and reaching for her tea.

“You think so?” He asked, unable to cover up the doubt in his voice. He couldn’t really say he wanted to experience what happened over the weekend all over again.

“You’re best friends, right? If I had a fight with Chie, I wouldn’t give up so quickly.”

Yu seriously wondered about that. Not that he doubted their friendship, but it wasn’t like he and Yosuke had stopped talking to each other over some small misunderstanding either. He sat up, bent one knee, and rubbed his nose.

“Even if…” Yu stopped with his hand in front of his mouth, eyes fixed on the table in front of him as he tried to decide if he really wanted to tell them that much. Chie sat up, too, and both girls were watching him close when he finally shook his head. “Never mind.”

It wasn’t right to tell them that. Not without Yosuke’s knowledge. At least, that’s what Yu told himself.

“Well, if you need us to knock some sense into him,” Chie said, rolling up her sleeve and flexing her arm. “Let us know.”

Yu dropped his hand down from his mouth to his thigh and smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Yu?” Yukiko was looking at him, mostly, but also glancing at the doors to the bedroom and bathroom.

“Yeah?”

“Not to change the subject so suddenly, but where’s your bathroom?”

Yu felt his heart stop for just a second. He’d been so worried about being asked about his cat’s whereabouts that he hadn’t once considered someone might ask about the bathroom first.

“I don’t have one,” he said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Yukiko stared at him. She was probably judging him just then. No, definitely judging him. He could feel it coming from her eyes, sinking into his skin. So he turned to Chie, who was also staring, but looking more like she was trying to work out a tough math problem.

“Was that a joke?”

“I… I mean, I had to...” His eyes fell to the floor, darting back and forth between the options in his head. “Get it fumigated?”

Both of them frowned at him.

“But if that’s the case, we shouldn’t even be in here,” Yukiko said, standing up.

Chie looked up at her. “Wouldn’t we be able to smell that?”

“There was a lot of cologne,” Yu said, though the comment only earned him glares. He hunched his shoulders and lowered his head in self-defense as he wondered why they knew the details of fumigation but not golf.

“If you’re not going to tell me then I’ll just find it myself.” Yukiko stepped over Yu and walked toward the door closest to the kitchen. Yu scrambled to his feet and practically leapt over Chie.

“Wha… Yu?!”

“Yukiko, wait, that’s—”

It was only the closet door, but for whatever reason Yukiko seemed displeased as she peered into it.

“Yu.”

Her tone had something scary behind it that Yu couldn’t explain.

“Y-yeah?”

“Why is the goodbye CD we gave you in a bag of cat food?”

Yu paused, opened his mouth to speak, but even after several seconds of thought, all his mind could come up with was, “It is?”

“Hey,” Chie said, finally standing up herself. “Where’s your cat anyway?”

Yu looked at Chie, then back to Yukiko, then to the closet. He joined Yukiko at the doorway, and sure enough, there the disc was, half buried in small, dry brown bits that supposedly had real meat in them. He pulled it out of the bag and wiped the dust off of it with his sleeve.

“But this should’ve been…” Luckily, Yu stopped himself before he finished that sentence, knowing that it would’ve gotten him in more trouble than just finding it in a bag of cat food.

“On a shelf,” Yukiko finished for him before moving on to the next door. Yu ran in front of her and spread his arms, blocking the path.

“Please reconsider,” he said, locking eyes with Yukiko. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. It wasn’t long before Chie was at her side with a similar expression of irritation and suspicion on her face.

“Reconsider what? She has to go!”

“Maybe I can find a vase.”

“A vase?!” Chie blurted back at him, making him realize just how bad that sounded. He felt his cheeks grow hot.

“Yu, this isn’t funny anymore,” Yukiko said, trying to push him aside, but not having much luck.

“Yukiko, please, this… this isn’t a joke, I swear.”

“Yu! Just… move already!”

Yukiko dug her elbow deep into Yu’s ribs making him flinch and double over. Chie took his arm and pulled him away from the door.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chie asked. Yu wished he could answer that. He really did.

“Yukiko, wait!” he begged as she reached for the doorknob.

Before Yukiko’s fingertips could touch the metal, the door clicked open on its own. Her hand twitched back in surprise and she stepped back as the door slowly swung open. Hayato stood there in the doorway looking tired. His eyes were red and puffy, but dry. Yu wasn’t sure, but he thought Hayato’s hair hadn’t been quite as messy before as it was now. Hayato looked Yukiko over, then stepped forward. She in turn stepped back again, and he exited the bathroom.

“Sorry,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “All yours.”

Yukiko could only stare at him in shock. Yu wasn’t capable of much else either until Chie broke the silence again. Well, more like shattered it, violently waving her arms at the new arrival.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend!”

Before Yu’s thoughts could catch up to what was happening, Hayato was already answering for him.

“I’m not…” he started loudly, but then paused as he looked at the floor, then out the window, scratching his head for a moment, then cringing and shoving his hand back into the pocket. Quietly, he finished, “I’m not his boyfriend.”

“…O-oh,” was all Chie could manage in response.

“Wait, so,” Yukiko started, then put a finger to her lips, and then put that same finger down on her palm, tracing the lines of her hand as though trying to remember something. “If he’s not your boyfriend, then who is he?”

Hayato shot Yu a glance, as if to say ‘This one’s all yours.’

Yu frowned back at him, as if to say ‘Thanks a lot.’

“Yu?” Chie was looking up at him, waiting for an answer.

“He’s…” Yu looked down at his feet and rubbed his neck. “My cat.”

Chie and Yukiko were staring at him again, and to be honest, Yu had long ago had his fill of being stared at that week. He turned to Yukiko and motioned to the bathroom.

“You better go now. It’s a long story.”

Yukiko gave him a hesitant nod, but went as she was told. Yu turned his attention to Hayato, who was bouncing his foot on the floor. He was hunched over and looking at anything and everything other than the other two people in the room. Even so, Yu approached him and held the disc in its clear case up to Hayato’s face.

“Why was this in the cat food?”

Hayato brushed him off, turning away from him and starting to walk away, only to be pulled back when Yu grabbed his shoulder.

“Hayato, answer me.”

Hayato looked up at him with his red eyes, his frown deepening.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that while they’re here?” he asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. Yu let go of Hayato’s shoulder and turned his attention back to the disc.

“Hayato, is it really okay that they know about you?”

“It’s fine,” Hayato mumbled. “They seem like good people.”

Yu shrunk a little and tried to laugh off the ‘unlike you’ his mind added to that statement.

“I can’t believe you were gonna make her pee in a vase.”

“Me neither,” said Chie, her voice much closer than Yu had expected, making him jump a little. “I mean, geez. A vase? Really?”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Yu asked, suddenly unable to look either of them in the eye.

“I agree.”

The sound of Yukiko’s voice froze all three of them instantly. Her tone had a threatening quality to it, and the subject was dropped.

Yu found a couple extra chairs and the four of them arranged themselves around the kitchen table. It was a bit of a tight fit, but they made it work somehow. Hayato, despite having left the bathroom, seemed to still be upset and reluctant to even look at anyone, let alone talk, so Yu briefly introduced him in his stead.

“Okay so, your name is Hayato, right?” Chie asked.

“Yeah.”

“And, um,” Chie paused passing uncomfortable glances around to the others at the table. “You’re a cat?”

“Sometimes.”

Hayato was leaning on the table, holding his head up with one hand and tracing patterns in the wood with the other. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there, and Yu’s nerves were building up.

“He’s a shapeshifter,” Yu clarified, hoping to make up for Hayato’s rudeness.

“So he transforms?” Yukiko asked.

“Yeah,” Hayato answered curtly.

“Yeah,” Yu echoed quietly, staring at the table and feeling guilty.

“Oh! Oh! Can you show us?” Yukiko was practically bouncing in her seat. “What’s it like?”

Hayato stopped tracing the table. He shifted in his seat and glanced at Yu, who hadn’t been looking up to notice it and received a light kick in the shin for his inattentiveness. Luckily Chie started speaking, and neither Chie nor Yukiko noticed the pained expression on Yu’s face.

“Oh, yeah! Do you have this really cool transformation?”

Hayato looked between the girls and Yu, and after realizing Yu wasn’t going to help him, he mumbled, “I don’t know how to turn back.”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“ _I don’t know how to turn back_ ,” he repeated, his voice loud and loaded with frustration. Yukiko flinched in surprise and Chie reeled back as though he’d actually taken a swing at her or something. Hayato noticed and almost immediately the anger drained from his face. He folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them.

“Sorry,” he said into his sleeve. “Everything just sucks right now.”

Yu lifted his hand to rub Hayato’s back, but stopped himself, his mind echoing _‘I hate you!’_ in Hayato’s voice over and over and over again. He pulled his hand back and put it with his other hand on the table in front of him, linking them together and rubbing the skin on his joints with his thumb.

Yukiko and Chie exchanged glances. Chie nodded toward the boys, and Yukiko scrunched her face in thought.

Keeping his eyes on his hands, Yu said, “We think it’s linked to scent somehow. That’s why it smells so much in here.”

Hayato glanced up at Yu from behind his arms, then turned away from him.

“I guess that does make more sense than using it for golf,” Yukiko admitted with a hand to her chin.

Chie hummed in agreement, but kept glancing at Hayato.

“Did you see it when he changed into a human?” Yukiko pressed on. Yu shook his head without bothering to look up, and Yukiko’s face fell a bit. She paused to think for a moment and then, “But then how did you know he was Mr. Nobunaga?”

Hayato looked up just then and lifted his head.

“N-Nobunaga?” he asked.

“He, um…” Yu scratched his head and turned away. “He knew things only my cat would know.”

“Oh,” Chie said, looking down at the table.

“I see.” Yukiko did the same, playing with a lock of her hair.

Hayato’s eyes darted between the three of them, trying to figure out what he’d missed and wondering why everyone else was acting like the conversation hadn’t changed at all. He nudged Yu and asked again, “Nobunaga?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yu said, waving his hand in front of his face.

“That’s really all it took for you to believe him, huh?” Chie crossed her arms.

“There was some pretty convincing evidence,” Yu said, his face growing warm again. “Besides, who would break into my apartment and say they’re my cat if it wasn’t true?”

“You would have to be a pretty bad liar,” Yukiko agreed, looking straight at Yu as she said it.

“I guess you would, huh…” Chie said, her eyes locked on the very same spot on Yu’s face.

“The type of person who’d say he didn’t have a bathroom.”

Yu could feel beads of cold sweat growing on his neck already.

“I didn’t know if you’d believe us or not,” he confessed weakly, playing with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Yukiko asked.

“Well, you didn’t believe the bathroom thing.”

“That’s different and you know it,” Chie said, puffing up and pouting, but letting it go after a few seconds. “We’re your friends, of course we’d believe you.”

“Yosuke didn’t.”

The room went quiet. Yu was staring at the goodbye disc sitting on the table between them, and it wasn’t long before everyone else’s eyes found their way to the CD, too. Hayato looked up from it quickly, checking the room. Yu was looking pale and trembling a little, and Chie and Yukiko both had guilt written all over their faces, like they knew they’d hit a nerve but had no idea how to fix it.

“I didn’t even tell him my cat was a human. I didn’t know it then. I told him my cat acts like a person, and he didn’t believe me.”

Hayato hunched up his shoulders and shrunk into his chair. Yukiko lifted her head.

“Yu…”

Yu picked up the disc, a sad smile on his face.

“If I was so ‘special’ to him, then why was one night all it took?”

Chie stood up.

“Yu, I’m sure it’s not like that,” she said. “If you just talk to him—”

“What? I talk to him again and what?” Yu asked without even looking up at her, his voice crumbling apart with each word. “He walks out the door again?”

Yu tossed the disc back on the table put his hands over his face, rubbing his forehead.

“Yu.” Yukiko put a hand on his arm. “This isn’t like you.”

“I know,” he said, feeling his eyes water up again. “I know.”

Hayato shifted in his chair again. “Yu?”

All three of the others looked up at Hayato, which was kind of unnerving. He kept his head down and played with the hem of his shirt, trying to forget the distraught look on his owner’s face.

“That day Yosuke came over… you got in a fight because of me?”

“No, that—” Yu shook his head. “—that wasn’t your fault.”

“But he walked out on you and if my behavior caused it—”

“He didn’t walk out because of you. He walked out because of me.”

Yu dropped his head back into his arms again. Hayato gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it tight. Chie glanced between the two of them, chewing on the inside of her lip. She turned to Yukiko for support, but her friend looked just as lost as she did. Before either of them could come up with something to say to dispel the tension, Hayato excused himself from the table and went to the bedroom. He gave the group a meek nod and pulled the door shut behind him.

“I don’t think he believed you,” Yukiko said a few seconds after the bedroom door clicked shut.

Yu took a deep breath and sighed.

“We’re not on good terms right now.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed,” Chie said with a wry smile. “Something happen?”

“I did something stupid, and he’s mad at me for it. I can’t say I blame him.”

“Mad?” Yukiko asked, sitting up straight. “He seemed more upset than mad, didn’t he, Chie?”

Part of Yu wanted to ask what the difference was, but it wasn’t as strong as the part of him that wanted to forget what happened earlier regardless of whether Hayato was mad or upset or whatever other word the thesaurus might assign to him.

“Yeah,” Chie agreed with a nod. “He seemed closer to sad than mad.”

Yu lifted his head and looked at Chie.

“Sad?”

“Yeah. It seemed like the whole Yosuke conversation really bothered him. Like he felt really bad about it.”

Yu let his eyes wander the table as he tried to organize his thoughts, but he didn’t get very far before Yukiko interrupted him.

“Oh, during the boyfriend conversation too, he…” Yukiko trailed off as soon as she spotted Chie making an X with her arms and violently shaking her head. “A-anyway, he seemed really disappointed since we first saw him.”

“You think so?” Yu asked, tilting his head toward his elbow. Yukiko and Chie exchanged glances again, both of them nervous over Yukiko’s failure to update her word choice after changing the sentence. _Disappointed about what?_ they thought to themselves, but Yu didn’t seem to notice the strange wording.

“Y-yeah,” Chie said. “You should probably talk to him later—I mean, I’m sure you will anyway since you live together, but…” The sentence faded into nervous chuckles, then slowly into nothing.

Yu wondered if they were right. He wondered if Hayato really wasn’t mad at him, if maybe he was just embarrassed and wanted some time alone. Yu wanted to believe that. He really did. But in some distant corner of his mind he kept hearing Hayato’s voice yelling at him from the other side of the bathroom door.

Yu opened his mouth to speak, but Yukiko beat him to it.

“Shoot.” She frowned at the watch on her wrist. “Chie, we gotta go or we won’t make it back to Inaba before dark.”

“Already?” Chie asked, though it was more of a whine than a question. Yu shared the feeling and his face fell just a bit, but he managed to bring it back to neutral before either of his friends saw.

“Before dark?” he asked.

“Chie drove.”

“I must’ve forgot to tell you.” Chie shrugged sheepishly. “Gotta get your license to be a cop, you know?”

“Oh, right.” Yu forced a laugh, hoping to hide how hurt he was about not receiving that information sooner. Yukiko stood up and the two girls walked together to the doorway.

“If you need anything, just give us a call, okay?” Yukiko said as she put on her shoes.

“Yeah, anything at all!” Chie said. “I mean, it might be hard to come visit a lot, but we should talk more often.”

“Y-yeah,” Yu agreed with a weak nod. Rubbing his neck, he cast a guilty glance at his phone on the counter.

“Oh, and Yu?”

Yu turned his attention back to the girls.

“Hm?”

“I’m not sure how to say this, but…” Chie averted her eyes for a moment, tapping her fingertips together. “Maybe try to be more sensitive to Hayato’s feelings?” She shook her head. “Sorry, that doesn’t sound right.” Chie groaned in frustration. “What’s the word for that?!”

“Read the atmosphere a little more,” Yukiko said.

“Yeah, do that!” Chie said, glad that someone knew what she meant.

“Ah…” Yu blinked, then gave them a hesitant nod. “I’ll try.”

“You better.” Chie grinned and slipped on her shoes.

The three of them said their goodbyes, and within a few short moments Yukiko and Chie were gone again. Though Yu was sad to see them go, he had to admit, seeing them again went better than he thought it would. At some point he’d convinced himself it’d be like trying to talk to Yosuke all over again, but it wasn’t.

 _Of course it wouldn’t be like that_ , he thought, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. They weren’t Yosuke. They were their own people. His fear of it turning out the same seemed so silly in hindsight. Yu smiled to himself, savoring the idea that, yes, he _did_ still have friends.

It was a bit embarrassing, but just the thought made him feel warm inside.

Or at least, it did until he turned around and saw his closed bedroom door waiting to remind him that the person he was closest to was in too foul a mood to even want to see his face.

Yu picked up the disc on the kitchen table and walked to the bedroom door. He knocked on it twice, and Hayato opened it. Upon seeing him, Yu had to pause for a moment, noticing that something was different.

“You… changed clothes.”

“Is that what you came to tell me?” Hayato asked with a flat stare. He’d put on some black sweats and a red t-shirt. The air he gave off was totally different now, and Yu had to wonder if simply wearing clothes that fit properly really had that big of an effect. Before he’d seemed so… Yu wasn’t sure how to describe it. Cuddly? He felt weird describing Hayato that way, but it was the only thing that came to mind. His new outfit made him look like an athlete, a runner, maybe, and his grumpy stare was no longer cute, but instead kind of intimidating.

Yu shook his head and held up the disc.

“About this…” He trailed off, realizing he’d forgotten what he was going to say. His stomach ached, and he only just then remembered that neither of them had eaten lunch. Between his stomach and the almost glare Hayato was giving him, staying on topic was difficult.

“It wasn’t broken and it looked important so I didn’t throw it out.” Hayato scratched his head and looked at the floor.

Yu let his gaze drop down to the CD in his hand.

“Did you listen to it?”

Hayato nodded.

“Sorry.”

Yu took a deep breath through his nose and let it out. Hayato was looking down at his feet and bouncing one of them on the floor again. After a few seconds time, he looked up at Yu expectantly, only to find him still staring at the CD.

“Look, I know that’s really personal. I shouldn’t have listened to it behind your back like that.”

Yu lifted his head and sighed.

“It’s fine,” he said, entering his bedroom and putting the disc back on his shelf. Hayato responded by making some clicking noise with his mouth, and when Yu turned to face him, he was cringing. Yu stared at him, then looked him over, searching for some kind of clue as to what he’d done wrong now.

Noticing Yu’s stare, Hayato shrunk back a little.

“What?”

Yu shook his head and made his way to the door.

“It’s nothing. What do you want for dinner?”

Hayato shrugged.

“Anything’s fine.”

Yu looked Hayato over again. He couldn’t help but think it felt out of place for Hayato to go from aggressive to passive so quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Yu cooked dinner alone. Hayato stayed in the bedroom the entire time. Yu had no idea what he was doing in there, but whatever it was, it was quiet. Standing in front of the stove, Yu shifted from one foot to the other, then did it again, and again, the whole time thinking about what Yukiko and Chie said.

“Sad, huh?” Yu said to himself, trying to figure out what part of their last conversation in the bedroom had been sadness instead of anger. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced Hayato hated him.

An hour or so later, he knocked on his bedroom door again to be greeted by a very tired-looking Hayato.

“Yeah?”

“Dinner’s almost ready.”

Hayato nodded, then silently followed Yu back to the kitchen. He stopped as soon as he saw the table filled with an assortment of colorful dishes.

“What’s all this?”

“Dinner,” Yu said simply, stirring the final item on the stove.

Hayato clenched his fists.

“Yu,” he began, forcing his hands back open. “What are you doing?”

Yu paused for a couple seconds, then scratched his head.

“I’m really sorry about… about earlier today. That was uncalled for.”

Yu felt his stomach doing flips while he waited for Hayato to respond. Yukiko and Chie hadn’t even been gone for two hours, and he was already feeling the same way he’d felt before they arrived.

“What are you even talking about?”

Yu stopped and turned to face Hayato.

“The… the catnip.”

All of a sudden Hayato’s face was the same color as his shirt, and he was looking at the floor instead of the food.

“Yu, I should be the one apologizing for that.”

Yu found himself staring at Hayato again.

“What?”

“I…” Hayato pursed his lips for a moment. “I made things weird, and…” He shook his head. “I won’t do it again.”

Yu couldn’t even begin to fathom what Hayato was talking about.

“Listen, Hayato, I shouldn’t have done that to you without asking first, and—”

“You didn’t do anything,” Hayato insisted, forcing Yu to stop. He took his seat, and the kitchen remained silent until Yu brought the meat over and joined him at the table. After filling their plates, they each muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ to their food, but despite how hungry he was, Yu was too nervous to eat more than a couple bites. He kept looking up at Hayato, trying to gauge just how angry he was, and if the food was helping at all.

Across the table, Hayato was spending more time shifting his food around the plate than eating it, and Yu could feel something twisting inside his chest.

“Is it bad?”

Hayato lifted his eyes from the food.

“It’s as good as it always is. I’m just not very hungry, I guess.”

“Oh.”

Before his mouth finished the syllable, Yu’s mind was already racing with all the possible implications of ‘as good as it always is’ and wondering if Hayato had always thought his food was bad, but just hadn’t said anything.

After a stretch of awkward silence, Yu spoke again.

“Maybe I should’ve ordered something instead.”

Hayato blinked and looked up from his food again.

“Why?”

Yu shifted in his seat.

“Is this really okay?”

Hayato searched Yu’s face for some kind of explanation.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Yu replied with a doubtful grunt and forced himself to take another bite.

Neither of them talked for the rest of the meal. Hayato picked up his plate first, putting away his leftovers and then taking his dishes to the sink and running the water.

“Hayato.” Yu turned around in his chair. “I can do that.”

“It’s okay. You always do it.”

Yu stared at his plate until the food turned blurry, listening to the clinking of the dishes in the sink behind him. He blinked, and when his vision was clear again, his chopsticks were shaking in his hand.

He stood up and started cleaning up the rest of the meal.

“Really, don’t worry about it. I got it,” he said as he wrapped up the leftover food.

“It’s really okay. I haven’t been helping out as much as I should anyway.”

“No, I—” Yu brought over the other dishes, forcing Hayato to the side and taking over. “—I have a system so just… go relax or something.”

“Yu, it’s not a problem—”

“It _is_ a problem!” Yu said, much louder than he’d meant to, so much so that Hayato flinched, and was looking back at him, eyes wide with fear and confusion. It didn’t take long for Yu’s own face to mirror it when he realized what he’d done.

“Sorry,” Hayato said quietly as he backed out of the kitchen.

“No, wait, I—” Yu rushed to put down the dishes. “—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m—” With the click of the bedroom door, Hayato was gone again. “—sorry.”

His chest hurt again, and he found himself clutching it as he sank down to the floor in front of the sink. He brought his knees in tight and waited for the pain to pass.

“I’m so stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. To be honest, I was really nervous about writing Yukiko and Chie in character, since I haven't really written them a lot. I hope they're not too OOC. ;o;a


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-harm and... I guess what I would probably call a panic attack in this chapter.

Nearly half an hour passed before Yu was able to pull himself up from the kitchen floor and finish the dishes. Hayato hadn’t left the bedroom even once, and Yu wasn’t sure whether to be upset that he hadn’t come back or grateful Hayato wasn’t there to see him like that.

Putting the dishes away took longer than usual. Yu kept finding little chores around the kitchen: crumbs to pick up under the counter, dust to clean behind the rice cooker, things that hardly mattered most of the time, but somehow became a top priority when his angry roommate was waiting for him just beyond his bedroom door. It wasn’t until he started to pull the refrigerator out of its place that he realized maybe he was avoiding going to bed, and it wasn’t until he caught a glance of the clock on the microwave that he realized maybe he didn’t have time for that, not if he didn’t want to spend the next day stumbling across the course like a zombie stumbles across a graveyard.

Yu pushed the fridge back, then took a deep breath and made his way to the bedroom door.

 

* * *

 

Hayato was laying on the couch, staring at the bookshelf across the room from him. He wasn’t really looking at it, so much as letting his eyes focus on it while his brain was elsewhere. Every once in a while his gaze would wander to the CD, back in its rightful place.

 _Good for him_ , Hayato thought, a little disappointed with himself at how bitter the sentiment was. Yu had faith in his friends again, or at least, two of them, and Hayato was jealous. Jealous of Yu for having friends who cared enough to check on him. Jealous of Yu’s friends for… something. Hayato didn’t even know why, but he had some dull aching feeling in his chest when he remembered the conversation he’d overheard from the bathroom and thought about how well they got along with each other. Maybe he was jealous of them for being Yu’s friend? Or for getting to spend the afternoon with him? God, that seemed petty if it was the reason. He spent every day with the guy, _lived with him_ , and here he was, jealous of them for taking a couple hours away from him.

There was a knock on the door. Hayato looked at it, then rested his head back down on the arm of the couch, sticking his bottom lip out in a small pout and chewing on the part still in his mouth. Another knock came from the door, a pause, then another knock, and a muffled voice.

“Hayato, I… I’m sorry.”

Hayato frowned to himself, and the voice continued.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you for trying to help.”

“Yu…” Hayato sighed to himself.

“Look, I… I know that you’re mad, and you have every right to be, but I kinda… need to get into my room, so…”

“Yu,” Hayato said louder.

“For clothes, I mean. So can I—”

“Just come in!”

There was a short silence, and then with a click, the door slowly opened. Yu came in, hesitant, careful, like he thought he was intruding. His eyes met Hayato’s, and he quickly let his gaze drop to the floor, gave Hayato a quick nod, and quietly made his way to the closet.

“You don’t have to ask permission to enter your own room, you know.”

Yu glanced at Hayato, but didn’t say anything as he took some underwear and pajamas out of the closet and hung them over his arm. He silently started to walk toward the door again, keeping his head down. It almost seemed like he was afraid to speak.

Hayato pushed himself up.

“I’m the guest here, not you,” he said, just as Yu’s hand touched the doorknob to pull it shut. Yu stopped and turned to him, looking lost for a brief moment. He opened his mouth, but then closed it before any words could come out.

Yu gave him a stiff nod and left.

Hayato fell back into the couch, letting his face squish against its arm. It wasn’t comfortable, but the couch was too short for him. It wasn’t long and spacious like the one in the main room, and despite how awkward it was while lying on his side, his legs were hanging off the opposite end.

His gaze landed on the disc on the shelf again, and steadily, his face scrunched up at the sight until he was forced to roll over and face the back of the couch instead. It was just as uncomfortable, no matter how he tried to position his head and legs. In a fit of frustration he kicked the back of the couch. His toe managed to hit the wooden frame just right, and then he was even less comfortable than before, swearing and seething and clutching his foot in pain.

When the pain finally passed, sadness replaced angry jealousy inside him, and he curled up on the cushions, his own arm under his head instead of the couch’s now, and his hand limply hanging over it.

“This sucks.”

Hayato glanced back at the door. Yu had left it slightly open for some reason. Maybe he forgot after Hayato interrupted him. He had been awfully out of it lately. Hayato turned back to the couch again, examining the furniture’s fabric and trying not to think about what a horrible day it’d been.

He was failing, and his mind was filled with embarrassing memories from only hours before. He hated being part cat. He hated how his body didn’t function like a proper human body is supposed to. What kind of person gets hard from catnip? No one Hayato could think of, except for himself, apparently. And what horrible timing to discover that little tidbit about himself, too.

He hated that he was still discovering things that the curse had done to him. He was always finding new stupid, frustrating surprises to deal with. Every goddamn day since he’d turned human again he’d learn about some feline urge he still had even after the change back. Resisting them was difficult, sometimes even painful, but knocking things off the counter for no reason other than “it was there” and crawling through Yu’s pile of clean laundry were unacceptable things for a 20-something adult human to be doing.

He couldn’t remember it being this hard last time he was human. Maybe it hadn’t been. Maybe he was having issues because he’d been a cat for so long this time. The more he thought about it, the more that made sense. He wondered if he stayed human long enough, if the cat traits would eventually fade away, if he’d be able to go back to living a normal life.

Probably not. Not as long as he couldn’t control the shift from one form to the other, anyway.

Hayato sighed. He wanted to be one or the other, not both. Things were simpler that way. Though, when he thought about it, being a cat hadn’t been so bad. People liked cats. Everyone was nice to him just because they thought he was cute. Even on the street, it hadn’t been as bad as it would have been as a human. No need for money. Begging for food was easy. Stealing was punished with a mild scolding and a toss at worst, and he’d already learned to land on his feet as the Phantom.

God, the Phantom. His glory days as Joker seemed so far away now. He could hardly believe that used to be him. He wondered if Yu would believe him if he told him he used to be an infamous phantom thief.

 _Maybe_ , he thought with a wry smile. _It didn’t take much for him to believe I was his cat._

Even living with Yu had been easier as a cat. Yu liked Mr. Nibbles. They never fought or argued with each other. When Yu was sad all Mr. Nibbles had to do was snuggle with him, and Yu didn’t think it was weird when he did it.

Mr. Nibbles never made Yu uncomfortable by showing affection.

Mr. Nibbles never accidentally gave the pizza delivery girl the wrong impression about their relationship.

Mr. Nibbles never forced Yu to spend large sums of cash on him.

Mr. Nibbles never made Yu keep secrets from his friends.

Mr. Nibbles never put Yu’s career at risk.

Mr. Nibbles never made Yu cry.

Hayato pulled his knees up to his chin and closed his eyes as he tried to think about something else. Anything else.

He heard footsteps behind him, which paused for about ten seconds before the door clicked shut and the steps continued. After something that sounded like fabric dropping, the steps stopped again, close by, probably right behind him. Twenty seconds or so passed without any movement, and Hayato rolled over to see Yu standing there in his sleepwear, watching him.

“What?” Hayato asked. Yu seemed a little shocked at his response, and only shook his head before moving on to the futon. Hayato frowned and pushed himself upright.

“No, really. What?”

“It didn’t seem like a very comfortable position.”

“Oh,” Hayato said, looking at the floor while guilt tugged at his thoughts. He stayed like that until Yu finished preparing the futon. His eyes followed Yu as he crossed the room to turn off the light. As Yu reached for the switch, he laid himself down again, curling up just enough to fit on the couch. Yu stopped with his hand on the switch, and stared at Hayato again. Some time passed, and having realized the light was still on, Hayato turned to Yu.

“…What?” he repeated, starting to sound annoyed. Yu rubbed his neck and looked at the floor.

“You’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Yeah.”

Yu shifted his weight from one leg to the other, then looked up at Hayato again.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Yu…” Hayato propped himself back up.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

“That’s…” Hayato shook his head. “…not even…”

“I was really mean to you today.” Yu chewed on his lip, nervously glancing around the room. “I don’t even know why and… sorry, this must sound so bad.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

Yu’s hand slipped down from the switch. He was scratching his head with the other hand, and his eyes kept darting between Hayato and other things in the room: the futon, the disc, the window.

“But,” Yu began, his voice smaller than Hayato was used to hearing. “If it’s not a big deal, then why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“You said the futon was too small for both of us, right? I’ll be fine here.”

“Y-yeah, but…” Yu’s eyes stopped on the floor. “I just needed some time to get used to it.”

“Don’t force yourself,” Hayato said, so busy readjusting himself so he was laying on his back that he missed the way Yu’s eyes snapped back to him. “I was thinking about it, and I shouldn’t have been pushing my cat behavior on you like that now that I’m human. Sorry.”

Hayato had his hands behind his head, and he was staring at the ceiling while Yu was trying to work out the knot in his throat.

“I really don’t mind, so…”

Yu didn’t finish that sentence, and when Hayato finally looked at him, Yu was staring at the floor, his hands gripped into tight fists at his sides, thumbnails digging into the sides of his index fingers.

“It’s your futon. You don’t have to share it.”

“Well, no, but…”

“This is what you wanted, right?” Hayato asked, turning his attention back to the ceiling.

Yu winced, then turned out the light and quietly made his way to the empty futon, a thin trickle of blood running down from where his thumbnail used to be.

“Good night, Yu.”

“Good night.”

 

* * *

 

Yu wasn’t sure how he woke up when he couldn’t remember falling asleep. He’d spent the first half of the night trying not to stare at the couch, but then locking his sights on it every time Hayato made even the tiniest movement. After that, his memory was blurry, like maybe the image of the moonlit couch had been burned so deep into his retinas that he still saw it even after his eyelids fell shut. That was the best theory he could come up with while his phone alarm was ringing in his ears, anyway. He pushed himself up until he was sitting and picked up his phone, yawning as he tried and failed to turn it off several times. He got it after the eighth attempt.

He set his phone down and stretched, his eyes squeezed shut until he heard something in his back pop. When he opened them again, his gaze fell back on the couch.

It was empty.

Yu tossed his blanket aside and scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the edge of the futon and then accidentally kicking his phone across the floor as he frantically rushed to the door to check the rest of the apartment.

The living room was empty.

_He’s gone._

The kitchen was empty.

_He’s really gone._

The bathroom was empty.

Yu paced the hallway between his bedroom and bathroom, one hand on his hip and the other over his mouth as he tried not to let the cold pit in his chest pull him into a panic.

 _No_ , he thought, shaking his head. He swallowed and slowly lowered his hand. _It’s okay. Nothing to worry about. He’s not here. So what? That’s his decision. I’m fine._

_I’m fine._

He lowered his hand to his chest and took a deep breath.

 _I’m fine_ , he thought, letting the breath back out, then inhaling again.

_He hates you._

Yu choked on the air in his throat and doubled over into a coughing fit.

_You’re alone again._

“I’m not—” he gasped between coughs, leaning against the wall for support.

_He hates you._

_You’re alone again._

_It’s your fault._

“Dammit,” he muttered as his cough subsided and he slid to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chin and hid his face in them, eyes closed with tears ready to drop from their edges and fists balled up in his hair, tugging at it, each strand taut between his fingers. “Dammit, _dammit_.”

Even with the cough gone, he found it harder and harder to breathe. His pulse was racing and his chest hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt.

It hurt.

“Come back,” he begged, the words weak, more air than voice. “Please.”

Seconds passed, but they felt like hours, each longer and more painful than the last.

He stayed that way, white-knuckled and trembling until a sound came from his bedroom. Something shuffling.

Yu forced himself to lift his head and open his eyes to look. The edges of his vision were blurry and gray, and the meter between him and his bedroom looked more like a mile. He pulled his shaky fists from his head, forgetting to let go of his hair until after feeling the pain of it ripping out of his scalp. He stared at the gray threads in between his fingers as his head now throbbed the same as his chest. He couldn’t find a reaction within himself, so he disregarded it, leaving the hair on the floor as he crawled across the hall, stopping at his bedroom doorway, then grasping the frame.

He looked inside, eyes darting from the bookshelf to the disheveled futon to the table to the couch, each just as empty as the last. Yu felt another wave building up inside of him until he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find two legs awkwardly dangling out of the box of clothes next to the couch. A quiet moan came from the box, and then more shuffling, the legs turning, one pulling into the box while the other hung out, limply slung over the cardboard wall. The box fell still, and Yu slowly but steadily made his way closer to it, stopping at the end of the coffee table when his hand bumped against his phone. He paused, trying to remember when his phone made the journey across the floor, or if he’d only imagined it going off. He decided not to think too hard about it and placed it on the table so he wouldn’t misplace it again.

After several deep breaths, he used the table and couch to steady himself and somehow managed to push himself up to his feet. He was still shaking terribly, but he was standing again, which in its own way made him feel a little better. When he peered down into the box, Hayato was laying there in a heap of his own clothes, one of the red shirts clasped in between his fingers. There was a peaceful look on his face despite the bizarre position he was in, scrunched up into a ball just to fit in the tiny space.

A small smile cracked through his nerves and relief washed over Yu, barely making him still before his body shook with amusement instead of distress. He covered his mouth, trying not to wake Hayato with his laughter. Smiling to himself, he went to his closet and got dressed. When he returned to pick up his phone, he looked at Hayato again, watching his chest rise and fall with his breathing and his lips forming words only someone sharing the same dream could hear.

 _He really is a cat_ , Yu thought to himself, absently opening the camera app on his phone until he looked down and realized what he was doing. He stared at Hayato through the window of his phone camera, wondering why his body had done that so automatically.

Yu closed the app and stuffed the phone in his back pocket. He was shaking again for some reason he couldn’t place, though not nearly as badly as before. With a tight frown, he left.

 

* * *

 

When Hayato awoke, the apartment was dead silent. He glanced at the clock only to see it was an hour later than he usually woke up. Then again, usually he woke up when Yu needed his arm back.

He pulled himself upright and stretched, starting simple, but then bending his body in ways most people couldn’t. It was a habit he’d picked up in his heisting days. He wasn’t sure why he kept doing it, but it wasn’t hurting anything as far as he could tell.

Eventually he made his way out of the box, groggily stumbling across Yu’s bedroom while shifting his hair out of his eyes. He yawned as he opened the bedroom door, but paused when his gaze fell to the nest of silver strands on the floor.

“Yu?” he asked, but the only reply he got was from his own echo bouncing off the kitchen appliances.

“Yu?” he asked again, making his way past the living room and into the kitchen. No one answered and no one appeared. He glanced at the doorway before remembering that the clubs hadn’t been there all week. He vaguely recalled Yu saying something about Margaret taking them, and he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or upset, though just then upset was winning. He ran a hand through his hair as he paced the kitchen floor, his mind racing with thoughts of all the bad things that could've happened to his owner, or that his owner could’ve done to himself, for that matter. He turned to the counter. The sink was empty and the knives were each in their place. Next to them laid a note. Hayato snatched it up, only to find himself being told that lunch was in the fridge, that there was a baseball game on TV at 2pm, and that he should think about what he wants for dinner since Yu had missed his usual trip to the supermarket.

 _I can read a TV schedule_ , Hayato thought somewhat bitterly, in spite of the relief clearly spread across his face. He opened the fridge, and sure enough, a new meal sat beside the leftovers from only the night before. Hayato drew his lips tight and shut the fridge door.

 

* * *

 

Yu walked to the course with his head hung low as he tried to work out how he was going to apologize to Margaret. He’d never deliberately avoided her like that before, and the idea that she still had his clubs only made the fear in the back of his mind grow. He walked faster in hopes that he’d get to the course before he totally chickened out and turned around.

When he got there Margaret was waiting outside for him, arms crossed, clubs slung over her shoulder, shoe tapping against the pavement with a steady rhythm of restrained irritation.

“I see you made it today,” she said, the words like icy hands clamping around Yu’s neck. Yu instinctively brought his own hands up to his neck to relieve the cold choking feeling, but the clammy sweat on his own trembling fingers did little to help him.

“Yeah,” he managed to choke out, eyes locked on the ground. Margaret stopped tapping her foot and a long silence stretched between them while Yu searched for the right words. After a tense minute passed, he realized he’d never find them, and fumbling with his collar, he quietly said, “I’m sorry,” then hurried to add, “A-about this week. I know that tournament is coming up soon and I’m...”

Yu trailed off, then glanced at the door before his gaze settled on his shoes.

“You’ve been working so hard and I can’t even hit a ball straight anymore.” Yu shook his head. He opened his mouth to continue, but nothing came out. He worked his jaw, trying to free the words lodged in his throat, but nothing came, so he closed his mouth and ground his teeth together while his hands hung bound up at his sides, thumbnails digging into the scabs on his index fingers. He stayed like that until he heard the clatter of his clubs shifting in their bag, and looked up to see Margaret holding that bag out to him, her face eased into her usual knowing smile. Yu gave her a weak smile back and nodded, taking the clubs from her.

“I suppose I can forgive you this time,” Margaret said, pulling the keys to their cart out of her pocket.

“Thanks.” Yu looked over his clubs, counting them up before slinging them over his shoulder. He couldn’t tell what Margaret had changed about them, but he was glad he didn’t have to use the rental clubs again.

They made their way to the cart, and as he put his bag in the back he asked, “So what’d you do to my clubs anyway?”

Margaret chuckled softly to herself, in that strangely graceful way that only she could pull off.

“You’ll see,” she said as she took the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. Yu took his own usual spot beside her and pursed his lips, worry creeping into his mind as his imagination came up with all the possible unnecessary changes she could’ve made to his equipment.

He brushed his thumb over the scab on his finger again and his mind wandered back to his apartment, wondering if Hayato was still there, if lunch and a baseball game would buy him any time. His eyes dropped to the cart floor stained green with the ink of a freshly mowed course as he thought about his roommate reading the note on the counter.

 _What if…_ Yu clenched his fists, his mind saturated with the image of Hayato crumpling up the note and tossing it into the trash before walking out the door without a second thought. There was a part of Yu that wanted to take the wheel from Margaret and turn the cart around, to go home to see if Hayato was still there. He tried to shake the thought out of his mind, telling himself that Margaret would kill him if he did that, and that Hayato probably wouldn’t…

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Yu had pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through the contacts. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the list that he froze with the realization that he had no home phone, no means of calling Hayato at all.

“Yu?”

When he looked up from his phone, the cart had already stopped at the first hole, and Margaret was watching him, her normally flawless features bearing small lines of worry.

Instead of answering, Yu stared at her as a flurry of tense thoughts pulled his mind in fifty other directions, screaming fifty different things at him. He saw Margaret’s lips form other words, but he couldn’t hear them over the blood rushing in his ears and the thoughts rushing through his head. His breath went short and his heart was racing to catch up with his mind. His phone clattered on the floor as his trembling hands clasped his head instead. He closed his eyes and curled in on himself.

_I need to go home._

_He’s leaving._

_I need to go._

_I’ll be alone again._

_Maybe’s he’s already gone._

_Alone again._

_I need to go._

_He’s leaving._

_Just like Yosuke._

_Alone again._

_Alone again._

_I need to go. I need to go home._

_He’s leaving._

_Leaving._

_I need to go now._

_Alone again. Alone again. Alone again. Alone again. Alone again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so  
> Here's some business I'd like to clear up what with the release of P5:
> 
> 1\. I am playing P5 in Japanese currently, but since Japanese is my... er, third language, my understanding of what's going on is kinda... OK WELL MY POINT IS I'M NOT GONNA WRITE P5 SPOILERS IN THIS FIC OKOK (or at least, not until after I get my hands on the game in English, which given my current rate of writing, is certainly possible before the end of this fic)
> 
> 2\. I know we have a real name for P5-kun now (it's Akira btw for those of you who haven't heard and I think it's a v nice name), but what with this fic already being 12 chapters in with the name Hayato, I'm not going to switch. Maybe after I finish the whole fic I'll go back and change it, but as things are now, eeeeh...
> 
> and not related to P5 but:
> 
> 3\. My computer has an overheating problem as of late that causes it to restart on its own, which is why updates have been slower than usual. I can still use it, just... in small doses. OTL
> 
> but yeah here's another pile of sad for you i hope you liked it


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for panic attacks, self-harm, brief mention of needles.

No matter how many times his mind told him he had to go, his body didn’t move, couldn’t move, save for the grip tightening on his hair. His scalp ached, but it gave him something else to focus on, something to distract him from his panicked thoughts. He tugged it tighter, the already too taut strands coming loose and falling back against his white knuckles.

Yu’s phone vibrated at his feet, loud against the hard floor of the golf cart, and somehow even louder than the thoughts screaming through his head. He opened his eyes to the phone trembling against his foot, then pulled his hands from his head to reach for it, forgetting to unclamp his fists until after he saw the fistfuls of his hair laced between his fingers and falling into his lap. He thought he heard Margaret’s voice, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. It was fine, the phone was more important, or at least that’s what his brain told him as he picked it up with shaking hands. He was barely able to make out the name on the caller ID through his blurred vision, but he’d seen it enough times to figure it out.

Fumbling with the phone and then shakily holding it to his ear, he gasped out a meek “Hello?” through the knot in his throat.

“Big Bro?”

“Nanako!” he croaked out, voice still hoarse with tension.

“Big Bro, are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, nodding has he wiped tears from his eyes and briefly wondering when he’d started crying. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

“Really?” she asked, the worry in her voice causing Yu to tighten the grip his other hand had on his knee.

“Yeah,” he said again, swallowing his heartbeat.

“Yukiko and Chie told me about how the media was spreading those rumors about you.”

“O-oh,” Yu choked out, letting his shoulders relax.

“And even though you’re helping a friend out, too. That’s really horrible of them.”

“A-ah, um,” Yu paused, passed a glance to Margaret, then continued. “How much did they tell you?”

“Huh? Um… they said the news won’t stop talking about how your homeless friend is your boyfriend just because you ordered a pizza together.”

“Oh.” Yu let out a sigh. “You didn’t see it on the news yourself?”

“I’ve been busy with school.”

“Already?” Yu asked with a light laugh.

“Spring term started last week.”

“Yeah, but they’re working you that hard this early?”

“You know how Ms. Kashiwagi is. She plays favorites.”

“O-oh.” Yu lifted his hand from his knee and ran it through his hair, gently fingering the sore spot he’d been tugging at before. “Right. I forgot she got transferred to the junior high.”

“They could’ve kept her a little longer.”

“Nanako,” Yu chided, despite the obvious smile in his tone.

“I know,” Nanako pouted. “She’s so frustrating though.”

“I know, I know. By the way, aren’t you at school now?”

“You know we don’t get good reception at home!” Nanako huffed. “Besides, it’s break time.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Yu said with a laugh before casting a nervous glance at Margaret again, who was speaking to someone he didn’t recognize. “Listen, I’m at work right now, so…”

“You gotta go, right, Big Bro?”

“Y-yeah,” Yu said, eyes darting away from Margaret, looking instead at the golfer she’d told to go ahead of them and trying not to think about whether or not they’d seen his meltdown.

“Hey, Yu,” Nanako started, making Yu bolt up at the unusual sound of his name in his cousin’s voice. “If things get hard, me and Dad are always here for you.”

Eyes welling up again, Yu nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Love you, Big Bro.”

“Love you, too, Nanako.”

The two of them exchanged their goodbyes while Yu wiped the tears from his eyes with his palm before they could roll down his face. He hoped Nanako couldn’t hear the way he was sniffling just then, the way his emotions had blown a circuit and started to leak out of his face, but he had a feeling it was obvious and that Nanako was only doing him the courtesy of ignoring it. Either way, he was thankful for it as he ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Sorry,” Yu mumbled, pressing his palms to his eyes, willing the waterworks to stop. Margaret shook her head.

“Your cousin has impeccable timing.”

Yu laughed.

“Yeah, I guess she does.”

He let his hands fall into his lap, revealing the red that had spread over his eyes and his face.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Yu looked Margaret over, then leaned back in his seat, eyes on the ceiling of the cart.

“No offense, but I don’t think that’ll help.”

“None taken, though I would prefer to avoid a second incident. I doubt we’ll have another timely call like that.”

_Incident_ , Yu’s mind echoed dryly, Margaret’s word choice doing nothing to make him feel better. He briefly entertained the thought of informing her that _had_ been the ‘second incident’ before realizing it wouldn’t help him any.

“Just—” Yu rubbed his forehead. “Keep me distracted, okay?”

Silence settled between them, prompting Yu to look over. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Margaret pursing her lips together in the split second before her composure returned.

“Very well.”

She got out of the cart and Yu followed her to the back where his clubs were. She pulled out one of the woods and held it out to him. Yu ran his hand over the sensitive part of his scalp again.

“It looks the same.”

“All will become clear when you use it,” Margaret insisted, shoving the club into Yu’s hands with a forcefulness that didn’t match her tone. He had to admit, holding it just then felt different than usual, like there were magnets in his fingertips and a familiar pulse running between them. Yu lifted his eyes from the club up to Margaret again, eyebrows raised high under his bangs. Without a word, Margaret gave him a ball and a tee, smiling all the while. Yu looked her over one last time before going to set up his first swing.

After the ball was in its place and a quick round of stretches, Yu lined himself up with the tee and looked over the fairway.

_Here goes nothing_ , he thought, readying his swing. He pulled the club back, then, in the moment the head of his club started to fall back to earth, something hot shot through Yu’s limbs, bringing the club down with a momentum that seared through the air and sent the ball flying across the green with a trail of smoke behind it.

Yu dropped the club at his feet.

“Oh my God.”

He stood stiff and pale as a statue, his muscles still aching from the unexpected rush of the swing as he watched the ball land into a small crater of its own making about a meter from the hole. Margaret walked up and stood next to him, grinning with self-satisfied amusement.

“My improvements are working rather well, don’t you think?”

“What did you do?” Yu asked, wide eyes glued to what was now a pair of holes instead of one.

“I linked your clubs to the power of your bonds.”

Yu shakily turned to her.

“You… you what?”

“I etched the runes from the compendium into—”

“ _Margaret!_ ” Yu would have screamed if it hadn’t come out as a desperate croak instead. His brain found his nerves again, and he paced around the club lying in the grass, one hand on his hip and the other cupped over his mouth.

“Is something wrong?”

Yu stopped and looked up from his pacing trail to match his gaze with his caddy’s. He dropped the hand on his mouth to his side and took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and let it out.

“Margaret.”

“Yes?”

“You can’t just… just… _enchant_ my clubs.”

“Why not?

Yu opened his eyes and looked up.

“That’s cheating, Margaret.”

Margaret crossed her arms with a smug chuckle.

“Oh? Is it?”

“Yes, Margaret. It is.”

“Strange,” she said, drawing nearer to him and pulling a small booklet from her caddy bib. “Not once did I see a single rule about magic during my research.”

Yu took the booklet from her and read it over, front to back, then scanned through it a second time, occasionally sparing glances up at Margaret only to see her smirking proudly at him, like she’d won some sort of contest.

“I’m fairly sure this falls under tampering with regulation equipment.”

“It doesn’t,” she said. “I checked.”

Reluctantly accepting his loss, Yu closed the booklet and rubbed his temples.

“Please ask me before doing something like this.”

“I did,” Margaret reminded him, taking back the booklet. Yu frowned.

“Right.”

“Besides, you’re playing for two now, no? It’d be wise not to risk unnecessary losses.”

Yu blinked, the tired irritation draining from his face as he turned back to Margaret, who was heading back to the cart. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but before the words could leave his throat she paused and turned back to him.

“By the way, how’s your cat doing?”

 

* * *

 

 

Hayato was sprawled out on the couch, lazily tapping away on Yu’s laptop while the TV droned on in the background. The baseball game wouldn’t start for a few more hours, but like hell was he going to sit around listening to his own dismal thoughts all day.

He had all of Yu’s social media accounts open in separate tabs, which, yes, he knew was underhanded, dishonest, and just generally shitty of him, but it was for the greater good, or so he told himself as he scrolled through one friends list after another. He reached the bottom of one list, groaned, and clicked to another tab and started again. After another five minutes of disappointment, Hayato rubbed his eyes and sighed. The lists for Yu’s public accounts seemed to go on forever, filled with dorky-looking golfers with ugly vests.

Sharing the sentiment, his stomach growled at him. He pushed himself up to head to the kitchen, but before he could even manage to stand up he found himself toppling backward at the sight of a young man with bleached hair pressing his face against the glass of Yu’s balcony door. Hayato swore to himself, rubbing the soon-to-be bruise the arm of the couch had left on the back of his head. When he finally made eye contact with him again, the guy responded with a bright smile and a light knock on the glass. Hayato scrambled to his feet and unlocked the glass door.

“Hey, Hayato! Long time, no see!” he beamed, holding up his hand for a high five. Hayato stared back with tired eyes, his usually unreligious mind thanking the Lord that Yu wasn’t home before reluctantly offering up his own hand. The guy’s face fell a bit, but he slapped Hayato’s hand anyway.

“C’mon, what was with that pause?”

“Ryuji,” Hayato sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“What?”

“You know this apartment belongs to a celebrity, right?”

“Yeah?” Ryuji said, scratching his head. “So?”

Hayato raised his eyebrows, but then shook his head and took Ryuji by the wrist and pulled him into the apartment.

“Get in here before someone sees you.”

“Hey, watch it.” Ryuji yanked his hand back, looking his wrist over while rubbing the soreness away.

“Do you have any idea what kind of field day the press would have if they saw another man standing at Yu’s window?”

Hayato could already hear the gossip magazines typing up nasty lies about Gay Golfer Yu Narukami having orgies in his apartment. The idea was almost laughable; his owner, a man who spends his nights reading alone with his cat, a man too shy to even ask his crush for his number, having sex with several men at once on a regular basis. _Right._

A wry smile made its way across Hayato’s face, but it disappeared once he realized Ryuji had been speaking to him while he was daydreaming and he’d missed most of it.

“—could take on some punk-ass paparazzi, right?”

Ryuji was looking up at him with a smug, yet expectant smirk, like he wanted his past leader to agree with him or something. Hayato couldn’t fathom why when he’d practically been ousted from the team, but apparently his approval still held some worth in Ryuji’s mind.

“I…” Hayato paused, piecing together the parts of Ryuji’s comment he’d actually heard. “…don’t think that’s a good plan.”

Ryuji’s smirk drooped, then fell from his face entirely, but he didn’t press it further. He turned away and scratched his head.

“How’s it going?”

“You see the news?”

“Yeah. Everybody did.”

Hayato rubbed his neck.

“I was afraid of that.”

“You have a plan?”

“Something like that,” Hayato said, staring out the window for a few seconds until he noticed the way Ryuji’s eyes were trained on him.

“C’mon, man.”

“What?”

“If you need help, just say so.”

Hayato stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned back to Yu’s laptop, his shoulders hunched up like a wall.

“I don’t need help.”

“You said that right before all this shapeshifting shit happened, too.”

Hayato whipped around and hooked his fingers under Ryuji’s collar, then shoved him against Yu’s bookcase, rattling its contents and leaving a dent in the wall behind it.

“What the hell?!” Ryuji grabbed Hayato’s wrist. “Calm down.”

Hayato pressed his fist into the space between Ryuji’s collarbones.

“If that’s all you have to say, you can get the hell out.”

“Dude, chill,” Ryuji said, tearing one of Hayato’s hands off of his shirt. “Everyone’s worried about you.”

“Funny way to show it.” Hayato gave Ryuji another shove before letting him go. He went back to the couch and returned his attention to the laptop, scrolling through his third friend list that day. Ryuji joined him on the couch, leaving some space between them, but not taking long to lean over and check out the action on the computer screen.

“You sure got a lot of new friends.”

“Shut up,” Hayato said, not bothering to look up.

Ryuji’s face slumped into a pout. He crossed his arms and looked around the room before letting his gaze settle back on the screen.

The two of them sat in silence until Hayato reached the end of the list and clicked into another.

“What are you even doing?”

“You’re still here?” Hayato asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Me?” Ryuji huffed, bringing his hand to his chest. “What about you? Why’re you still here?”

“I live here.”

“Really? And this Yu guy doesn’t care?”

A frown pulled at the edge of Hayato’s mouth. His hands paused over the keys.

“I just…” Ryuji stopped to cross his arms. “I don’t get it. Are you guys like, friends now or something?”

Hayato set the laptop on the couch cushion. He rubbed his neck and stared at his socks.

“It’s complicated,” he said quietly.

Ryuji’s face scrunched up. He hunched over, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm.

“Don’t you have to be—” Ryuji froze and blinked. His head shot up, his ears beet red.

“What?” Hayato asked, turning to Ryuji and clasping his hands together between his knees.

Ryuji shook his head.

“What?” Hayato pressed, leaning in. Ryuji looked away, glanced back at Hayato a few times, then leaned in close to Hayato, a hand up beside their faces.

“Did you… you know…” he whispered, as if they weren’t the only two in the room.

Hayato’s eyebrows drew a line flat against the edge of his forehead, and Ryuji tossed a nervous glance to the window and the door before curling the middle and index fingers of one hand and pressing the middle finger of his other hand between them.

“ _Christ_ , Ryuji.” Hayato said, shoving Ryuji away.

“Did you?!”

“No!” Hayato scowled, running a hand through his hair. “ _God._ ”

“Then why is it complicated?!”

Hayato ran his hand through his hair again, then leaned back and rubbed his face with a moan.

“I don’t know.” He dragged his hands down his face one last time before letting them fall at his sides. He stared at the ceiling. “I thought we were friends, but this thing happened and now everything’s all…”

Ryuji scrunched his eyebrows together and chewed on the inside of his lip.

“All what?”

“I don’t know.” Hayato repeated with a sigh. “Everything was easier when I was a cat.”

“Still don’t know how to control it, huh?”

Hayato jabbed his elbow into Ryuji’s side.

“Yu’s been trying to help, but no luck.”

Nursing his soon-to-be bruise, Ryuji mirrored Hayato, leaning back against the couch and watching the ceiling.

“So why are you…” Ryuji paused to point at the computer screen. “Doing this?”

“His ex-best friend is the reason I turned back.”

“So you’re like, looking for clues?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Ryuji frowned again, resting on foot on his other knee and hooking his thumbs on his pockets.

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“ _Ex_ -best friend.”

“What? Was it that bad?”

“Must’ve been. He’s been thinking about quitting golf over it. And…”

Ryuji perked up.

“And?”

“They…” Hayato sat back up. He pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes, but then started to play with it. “They got into a fight because of me, so…”

Hayato dropped his hand into his lap, and the hair fell back into his face.

“It’s complicated,” Hayato repeated, then sighed again. “Listen, Ryuji, you should really go.”

Ryuji stood up and took a few steps toward the balcony door, then stopped and turned back to Hayato, who was pulling the computer back into his lap.

“You really okay with that guy?”

Hayato smiled to himself.

“He’s harmless. Trust me.”

Ryuji made an effort to match Hayato’s smile, though it fell short. He reached into his pocket, then pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and set them on the coffee table.

“For luck,” he said.

Hayato looked up from the laptop and smirked at the glasses.

“They do look better on me, don’t they?”

“Shut up, man,” Ryuji laughed. “You’re not alone, aight?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hayato said with a smile. “Now get out of here before Yu gets back.”

 

* * *

 

 

Yu and Margaret stood over the seventeenth hole, peering into it with mismatched expressions. Yu, concerned, lips pulled tight and brows knit together. Margaret, calm, smile smug and arms akimbo.

The hole was melting in on itself, edges still glowing with embers, and Yu couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been this unhappy about a hole-in-one.

“Margaret.”

“A beautiful shot, no?” she mused.

“Margaret,” Yu repeated, his voice flat.

“Hm?”

“I don’t think the hole is supposed to burst into flames.”

Margaret sighed and crossed her arms.

“Must you be this way about every shot?”

“I have a golf tournament coming up, Margaret. Not a magic show.”

“But you’ve been golfing rather well today.” Smiling, Margaret bumped her hip against his as though it was meant to be some kind of friendly encouragement, but rather than make Yu feel better, it instead made him lose his balance and stumble back a few steps, then question what kind of weird things Margaret was picking up from her sister now.

“I guess,” he admitted, looking down at his club, his face a little pink. “Yukiko, right?”

Margaret nodded, gracefully flipping her hair back over her shoulder.

Yu had figured out who most of his clubs were linked to. He’d been rotating through them all afternoon and mentally teetering between the happiness of knowing his old friends still cared that strongly about him and the distress of seeing unnatural disasters soar across the green.

And all the while, he kept a mental list of people to text when he got home, smiling shyly to himself each time it got longer.

“So which one of us is apologizing to the golf course staff?”

Margaret blinked, her face suddenly blank.

“For what?”

Yu took a deep breath and let his frustration vent from his nose.

“Me, then,” he said to himself, sliding the club back into his bag. When he turned around, Margaret was right behind him, holding out the golf ball that had been engulfed in flames only a few minutes ago, unharmed and spotless save for a few ashes. Yu looked at it, then up at Margaret, then to the hole, which appeared just as unscathed as the ball. Yu squinted at Margaret and held out his hand. Margaret dropped the ball into it before taking her seat in the cart.

Yu leaned against the cart, putting the ball in his pocket, then toying with the wristband of his gloves while he watched his caddy.

“Margaret.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do that on TV.”

“Very well.”

Yu walked around the cart to his side and got in. Margaret revved the ignition and drove to the last hole. When she stopped the vehicle, she turned to find Yu gripping his knees and staring straight ahead.

“Hole eighteen.”

Yu gave a tiny jolt and looked at her, then the floor.

“Last one,” Yu replied with a forced laugh. He pushed himself out of the cart and met Margaret on the other side with his bag. Without a word, she held out the two clubs he hadn’t tried yet, one in each hand. Yu’s eyes bounced between them, and his mouth pulled back into a small cringe.

“Choose one,” Margaret added, her smile faltering.

Yu barely reached for the one on the left before Margaret shoved it into his hands and began to push him to the hole. She quickly set up the ball and tee, then motioned to them as she backed away. Yu watched her until she stood at a safe distance, then looked down at the club in his hands. The pulse from it was different than that of the others, and though it was familiar, he couldn’t quite place it. He glanced back at Margaret, who stood near the cart with her arms crossed, her mouth round with a smile but her gaze sharp, boring into his back.

Yu turned his attention back to the ball, took a breath and pulled back his swing. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was sure he heard a voice just then, but the words were unclear. A heavy sensation pulled at his muscles as the swing fell slower than gravity would expect. Everything stopped just as the head of the club approached the ball, a rush of pins and needles down his arms, and then the world jerking recklessly into fast-forward to catch up, sending the ball screeching through the air. It landed several meters from the hole.

The club slipped out of Yu’s limp hands and landed in the grass in front of him, a black feather falling from between the handle and his palm. Yu slowly brought a hand to his arm, tapped it weakly, then tried to rub the lingering chill from his muscles.

“I don’t like that one.”

“It didn’t get very close, did it?” Margaret lifted her hand to her chin.

“That’s not the problem,” Yu said, massaging away the memory of a thousand invisible needles piercing through his nerves.

“Perhaps this bond wasn’t as strong as I thought.”

Margaret took the club from Yu and returned it to the bag. Yu watched her all the while, frowning to himself. She took out the only one he hadn’t used yet and brought it to him, holding it out for him to take. Yu hesitantly touched it, a flood of memories swirling through his head when his skin met the steel.

_‘Hey, Partner, check this out. I was looking up kunai videos online and I found this sweet move. I think I can do it if we train together.’_

_‘Ted was gonna eat all the topsicles, but I saved you one. Here you go, man.’_

_‘Really? I never thought you’d get into golf because of me.’_

Yu’s hand flung back to his chest and he held it there, staring at the club with wide eyes, his heart racing. He shot Margaret a distressed look, but she only frowned back at him.

“I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Margaret said with a stern nod.

“No, I…” Yu shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I can’t.”

Margaret pressed the club to his chest.

_‘You’re special to me, you know?’_

_‘One of my favorite bands is having a concert in Tokyo this summer, you wanna come with?’_

Shaking, Yu grasped the club with sweaty hands.

_‘C’mon, I’ve seen some of the crap you eat. At least I tried!’_

_‘This is our first class together since high school, huh? I can’t wait!’_

_‘Sorry, Partner. Guess I’m not a very good wingman after all.’_

“Margaret, please,” he begged as she pushed him up to the tee.

_‘Dude, you gotta help me. I’ve got a big group project due tomorrow and they ditched me! I’m so screwed!’_

_‘I wish I could be good at everything like you are, Partner. You’re like a miracle worker or something.’_

Margaret was saying something, but Yu couldn’t hear it. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and took a step back.

_‘Hey, my roommate’s gonna be out of town this weekend if you wanna hang out.’_

_‘You’re like the whole package, Partner. Handsome and smart. You must have girls all over you when I’m not around.’_

His vision began to blur around the edges, and Yu shook his head, trying to calm himself with nothing but sheer determination directed toward avoiding a second public meltdown.

_‘Even I think you’re cute. N-not like that or anything! I mean, unless…’_

_Stop_ , Yu thought, tightening his grip on the handle.

_‘I never… God, this is so—shit, lemme just—’_

_Stop._

_‘I like you. Like a lot. Like… a lot a lot.’_

_Stop._

_‘You… you’re pretty good at this.’_

_Stop._

_‘W-wait, really? I mean, me neither, but…’_

“Stop,” Yu said, letting the club drop to the ground.

_‘Would it be okay if… if it were me?’_

“Stop!” He gasped, clutching his head as Margaret rushed back to his side.

_‘I… I love you.’_

“Stop,” he whimpered. “Stop... Please just… just stop…”

_The sound of shoes, then the door. A digital clock, 9:07am. Empty bottles. Scattered clothes._

“Yu, what’s wrong?” Margaret asked, picking up the club.

_His own clothes. Only his own clothes. Dirty clothes that smelt of beer and salt._

“I have to go.”

_9:30am, Inbox (0)_

“Yu?”

_10:00am, Inbox (0)_

“I have to go home,” Yu said, starting to walk toward the clubhouse.

_10:45am, Inbox (0)_

“Yu, wait!”

_11:30am, Inbox (0)_

“I can’t.”

_12:00pm, Inbox (0)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Merry Christmas?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for panic attack and self harm mentions.

The distance between home and work had never seemed so far.

Nearly breathless, Yu pushed his tired legs up the stairs of his apartment complex. Reaching the top stair, he paused, gripping the railing for fear of his knees giving way, swallowing gasps instead of breathing. He looked up at the hallway, feeling his throat clog when it shifted, his vision twisting the image.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his head drooping between his shoulders. The stairs below him were spinning just as steadily as the hall, and he was quick to close his eyes.

He grasped at the tightness in his chest, his fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt as they tried to scratch at the knot tugging between his throat and his gut. It wasn’t his hand that cleared it, but the icy sensation that passed through him when he realized his clubs weren’t there. His eyes shot open while his hand patted down his chest and shoulders, finding nothing but his shirt to cling to. He swore to himself again, the sweat on his fingertips soaking through his shirt and dripping from the railing.

He shakily pulled out his phone and fumbled with the button on the side until it lit up with the lock screen displaying the time and an old photo of Mr. Nibbles lying on top of a book Yu had been trying to read. He stared at it, the knot pulling tight again until he shook his head.

“Almost there.”

Making a mental note to call Margaret later, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and dragged his feet up the final stair and down the hall. Reaching his door, he crammed the key in the door and whipped it open.

“Hayato?” he asked, his voice too loud for the size of the apartment and spilling out into the hall as he struggled to pull the key out of its hole.

Hayato’s head poked up from behind the arm of the couch.

“Yu?”

“H-hey,” Yu said, voice calmer despite the stutter. A smile of relief passed on his face until his attention turned back to the key, very much still stuck in the door. He wobbled it and pulled again, then tried once more. The key, it seemed, was willing to move in every direction except out.

Hayato met Yu at the entryway, adjusting his hair into something more symmetrical than what the couch had given him while he watched Yu mess with the door.

“You’re…” Hayato looked Yu over again, eyes passing over the sweat dripping from Yu’s wrist and settling on the scab on Yu’s index finger. “…home early.”

“Uh,” Yu started, but the sentence was pushed aside by a frown creasing deeper into Yu’s cheek. Hayato scratched his head, then let his arm drop back to his side. He stepped down into the genkan and nudged Yu back out into the hall. He looked at the key sticking out of the hole, then up at Yu, who was chewing on the inside of his lip.

“This thing giving you problems?”

Yu gave a short nervous laugh, then looked at the floor, a hand on his neck. Hayato stepped out into the hall, and Yu felt something crawling up his throat again.

“It’s okay,” Yu croaked out weakly. “I can…”

With a jiggle and a strong downward thrust of his palm, Hayato easily pulled the key out. He held it out to Yu, who shakily pulled it from Hayato’s fingers.

“Thanks,” Yu said quietly, more to the key than to Hayato, who was already back in the apartment. Yu put the key back in his front pocket and followed Hayato in, letting the door fall shut behind him.

“No problem.” Hayato stopped in the entryway and scratched his head again. He looked down at his socks, then over to the kitchen tile. “We need to talk.”

For a second Yu forgot to breathe, his mind racing with all the possible reasons Hayato could have found to leave. It wasn’t until he tripped over the step into the apartment after taking off his shoes that he remembered, and even then, it was only because he wanted to scream at himself for toppling into his roommate. He didn’t, but he wanted to.

Hayato leaned against the wall for support as he barely held Yu up by his arms. Yu pulled himself back up, using Hayato’s arms as an anchor.

“Thanks,” he said again as he found his balance, looking down at Hayato’s chest, and then the floor. Hayato shook his head and tried to give Yu a disarming smile, but was only met with the top of Yu’s head instead of his face. The part of his hair was thin, showing small pink patches that would go unnoticed from any other angle. Hayato’s smile disappeared. Yu was still clinging to his wrist.

“This morning I found a bunch of your hair on the floor outside the bedroom.”

Yu twitched, then chewed on his bottom lip, mentally scolding himself for not picking it up. Hayato watched him, then looked down at the cold, clammy fingers wrapped around his wrist hanging between them.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Yu shook his head, but didn’t let go. With his free hand, he reached around and pulled his phone back out, scrolling through the contacts.

“You’ve been acting weird since last night,” Hayato pressed on. He shot a glare at the phone, watching Yu’s sweaty thumb fight with the touchscreen, then pulled it from Yu’s hand and held it as high as he could. “Talk to me.”

Yu passed a distraught look to his phone, then dialed it back to something he hoped looked more neutral as he let his eyes fall back to Hayato.

“I have to call Margaret,” he said, his voice small. He squeezed Hayato’s wrist. “About my clubs. I forgot—”

“Talk to me first.”

Yu reached for the phone, and despite Yu’s height advantage and Hayato’s back being flat against the wall, Hayato easily dodged.

“I forgot them and she—”

“This isn’t about Margaret.”

Yu made another attempt to retrieve his phone, and Hayato dodged it again.

“She did something to—to them and—”

“ _This isn’t about Margaret_ ,” Hayato repeated, louder. Yu shrunk back, jittery pupils locked to Hayato’s face, counting the anger lines and calculating the time he had left.

Yu’s gaze dropped to his socks, but he forced it back up to meet Hayato’s. Hayato raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded. Yu opened his mouth, but then shut it again and shook his head.

Lowering the phone and his guard, Hayato frowned and swallowed.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

Hayato gently shook the wrist Yu was holding on to, making their arms swing between them. Yu drooped his shoulders and looked at the floor again.

“I don’t know.”

Hayato blinked, the lines fading from his face.

“What?”

Yu’s fingers tightened around Hayato’s wrist.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Hayato’s face scrunched up like he’d eaten something sour.

“The truth?”

Hayato felt Yu’s fingertips trembling against his skin, and his face fell blank again.

“I don’t know what you want,” he repeated. “I don’t know. I said I was sorry and you—”

Yu choked on the word. The thumbnail of his free hand was digging into the scab of his index finger.

“—every time I try to apologize you get mad and…”

Yu ground his nail into the scab. He winced, and Hayato, forgetting the phone in his hand, let it drop to the floor, and reached for Yu’s hand with both of his, one hand on Yu’s wrist, and the other linking their thumbs and lifting the nail from its red indent. Yu’s other hand had instinctively gripped Hayato’s wrist, but felt awkward in the new position.

The two of them both looked down at their hands, linked together.

“Because I forgave you forever ago, you dumbass.”

They slowly raised their heads to face each other.

Yu was laughing. He was silent, and his face was wet, but he was laughing. Hayato felt his face fill with heat and he looked down, smiling softly to himself when his eyes fell back to their hands.

“I thought you hated me,” Yu said, the words more breath than voice by the time they got through his teary laughter.

“Do you really care that much about what I think?” Hayato asked, leaning forward until his forehead met Yu’s.

“Of course.” Yu sniffled, then laughed in spite of himself. “You’re my cat.”

Hayato let go of Yu’s wrist and gave him a light punch in the shoulder, just hard enough to part their foreheads.

“So I’ve been downgraded from friend back to cat again?”

Yu smiled down at their hands, brushing his thumb over Hayato’s.

“Friend, huh…”

Hayato watched Yu, taking it all in: the way Yu’s eyes shined while glossed with tears, the way the hall light coated Yu with a glowing outline, the way Yu’s icy hands were absorbing all of the hot embarrassment from his own, the way Yu’s smile broadened as the word ‘friend’ passed over his lips.

“Y-yeah,” Hayato said, still staring at those lips, feeling a small pang against the inside of his chest as Yu’s voice echoed in his head. He raised his free hand up to Yu’s neck before realizing what he was doing and planting it down firmly on Yu’s shoulder before his face could turn a deeper shade of red. “Friend,” he reminded himself with a shaky wry smile.

“Hayato?”

“Hm?” Hayato wasn’t sure he could trust himself with the task of producing a full sentence just then.

“Promise you won’t leave.” Yu looked up from their hands, eyes red from the recent waterworks. “At least… not without telling me why.”

Hayato snorted, then brought the hand on Yu’s shoulder back to his face. Yu frowned a little.

“What?”

“I have the cheapest rent this whole city,” Hayato said, poorly hiding his smirk behind his hand. “And you were worried about me taking off?”

“R-right.” Yu said, looking down and smiling bashfully to himself. “I guess I really am a dumbass.”

“Besides, I told you.” Hayato squeezed Yu’s hand. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Yeah.” Yu gave a small nod. “Me neither.”

The two of them fell silent, listening to the television announcer’s commentary on the last play of the baseball game, an out at first. Hayato brought his hand to Yu’s arm, stroking the skin just under his sleeve, and he could have sworn Yu leaned into it just a little.

“I promise.”

Yu’s eyes flit back up.

“Yeah?”

Hayato nodded.

“Yeah.”

Yu released Hayato’s wrist and wiped his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re still crying.”

“You’re still blushing,” Yu countered with a laugh, erasing the smug look from Hayato’s face in an instant.

“Shut up.” Hayato laughed back, but it quickly dissolved into a nervous forced smile.

“Sorry.” Yu pulled his other hand out of Hayato’s, and Hayato let his hands fall limply to his sides, the one on Yu’s arm cupped around it the whole way down, Hayato’s thumb and index briefly pausing on the joint of Yu’s ring finger before letting go.

“Nah.” Hayato shook his head. “I deserved that. Your hand okay?”

Yu lifted his hands and made a small frown at his scabs. They did bother him a bit, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“They’ll heal.”

“And your head?”

Yu’s frown sunk a little deeper.

“It’ll grow back,” he said.

The edges of Hayato’s mouth tugged down a little, his eyes wandering over Yu’s hair, taking note of the areas that were flatter, thinner than they’d been the night before.

“You wanna relax a while?”

Yu shook his head.

“I only came back to…” He reached to his shoulder, where his golf bag would normally be, glancing over when his hand only found his shirt. He shot a look at Hayato, apologetic with a hint of fear, like he’d been caught. Hayato’s lips parted, and his brows came together for a split second in realization, but instead of finishing Yu’s sentence for him, he closed his mouth and nodded, then knelt down and picked up the phone at his feet.

“You were gonna call Margaret, right?” he asked as he stood back up. He turned it over to look at the screen and breathed out a swear word with a cringe.

“What?”

“I think I owe you a new phone.” Hayato turned the screen to Yu. There was a crack stretched across the bottom half, starting a couple centimeters above the bottom right corner, then gradually sinking down into the bottom left. The loose shards were held in place by the plastic film fitted over it.

Yu took the phone and pressed the power button. The screen lit up, the same as always, save for the crack tearing through the pages of the book in the lock screen photo. He swiped his finger across it, and it returned to his contact list.

“Still works.”

“God, I…” Hayato hunched his shoulders and stuffed a hand in his pocket. He ran his other hand through his hair, pausing midway to scratch his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Yu wiped his hand on his shirt and scrolled down his contacts until he reached Margaret’s number. “Don’t worry about it.”

Hayato lifted his head, prepared to argue that no, it wasn’t okay, and that phones are expensive and Yu was already spending more money on him than on himself, but Yu already had his damaged phone up to his ear, waiting for Margaret to pick up.

Their conversation started, Yu apologizing for leaving so abruptly and forgetting his clubs. Hayato listened, chewing on his bottom lip and bouncing one of his feet on the floor.

“Listen, Margaret, as long as you have them, could you maybe…” Yu’s eyes swept the floor, eventually landing on Hayato’s restless foot, the only other moving thing in the room. “…turn them down a notch?”

Hayato noticed Yu looking at him and planted his foot back on the floor, then leaned back against the wall and started playing with his bangs.

“I know that, but people will be watching us. We can’t—Margaret, _please_.” Yu glanced at the clock on the microwave. “People will talk if they see holes going up in flames.”

Hayato jolted to attention so fast he hit the back of his head on the wall, mouthing a quiet “ _shit_ ” and then rubbing the injury. Yu turned to him, gesturing to the back of his own head with a concerned expression. Hayato waved his hand with a forced smile. Yu frowned a little, but then, with his eyes turned toward the phone, he frowned a lot.

“What’d they say?” Yu’s face fell, and he stayed quiet for a long while. “…They told you about that, huh?” Yu let himself fall back against the wall opposite from Hayato. His fingers rapped against the wall while he muttered quiet apologies into the receiver.

“…Okay, yeah. I’ll ask him. Thanks.”

Yu and Margaret said their goodbyes, and Yu ended the call. He stared at his phone for a few seconds, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

“You free on Monday?” he asked, lifting his head to Hayato, who was still rubbing his own head.

“Hilarious,” Hayato said flatly. “Why?”

Yu put his phone back in his pocket.

“Looks like you’ll get to test out your story about being homeless.”

Hayato let his arm drop back to his side and gave Yu a wry smile.

“Don’t say that like it’s not true.”

Yu wilted a little.

“Sorry.”

Hayato shook his head.

“Monday, huh?” he said with a short sigh, then smiled at Yu again, a small one with just enough curl on the edge to be playful. “I think I can make that work.”

Their eyes met, and Yu smiled back, the two of them sharing a couple heartbeats of silence.

“So uh,” Yu started, breaking eye contact first and reaching into his back pocket to make sure he didn’t forget his wallet with his clubs. He didn’t. “Groceries.”

Hayato nodded without a word and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Yu looked up in time to catch the tail end of the movement, and felt a twinge in his chest. It was small, barely there, but noticeable. Yu coughed into his hand, trying to shake the feeling.

“You know what you want for dinner?”

Hayato chewed on the inside of his cheek and looked at the floor, then brought his eyes back up to Yu. Yu felt another twinge.

“What?” Yu asked, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat.

“There’s still leftovers from last night.”

Yu turned to the fridge in the kitchen behind him, running his thumbnail over the scab on his finger.

“Yu?”

Yu’s eyes snapped back to Hayato, whose eyebrows were weighed down with concern.

“Listen, Yu,” Hayato said, rubbing his neck. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yu’s jaw fell slack as Yosuke’s voice ran through his mind.

_You don’t have to do this._

Within moments, Yu’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears, drowning out whatever Hayato had tried to say next. Shaking, he raised his hand to his head.

Before Yu could reach his hair, Hayato’s hands had clamped around his and pulled it back down, away from his head. Hayato tried to say something again, his face strained with a fear Yu couldn’t fathom a reason for. Yu stared blankly at him, trying to read his lips, but not having a lot of luck.

Hayato chewed on his lip, his eyes flitting to every corner of the room. He squeezed Yu’s hand tight.

 _Warm_ , Yu thought through the fading, panicked rhythm in his head. _He’s warm._

“Curry, okay?” Hayato said, sounding almost as if he was pleading. “I want curry.”

“Curry?” Yu echoed back quietly, and Hayato’s worried face broke into a smile of relief.

“Yeah.” Hayato shook Yu’s hand in affirmation.

“Okay.” Yu gave a small nod. “Spicy or mild?”

“Spicy.”

“Meat?”

“Is beef okay?”

Yu blinked as he ran through the request again in his mind, then looked down at Hayato’s trembling hands clasped around his own hand, wondering if he was shaking that badly or if Hayato was just as nervous as he was.

“Spicy beef curry?”

“Yeah,” Hayato said with a nod. “With rice.”

“Okay.”

After a short silence Hayato echoed a quiet “okay” back, his eyes falling back on the hand his own were clasped around. Another moment passed while the TV announced the score at the top of the sixth inning, and Yu let his fingers curl around Hayato’s palm.

“You gonna be alright?”

“Probably.” Yu let out a tiny laugh, but Hayato only watched him with pursed lips in a tight frown. With his free hand, Yu gave Hayato a light pat on the back of his own hand. “I’ll be fine.”

Hayato’s eyes bounced between their hands and Yu’s face a couple times, and then, with a shaky inhale, Hayato let Yu’s hand slide out of his fingers.

“I’ll be right back,” Yu said as he slipped back into his shoes.

“You better be.”

With a small wave, Yu left, leaving Hayato to watch the door fall shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they hold hands ;u;


	15. Chapter 15

The grocery store was a busy place on Fridays, Yu discovered. He wasn’t surprised by any means, and had actually thought that it might be that way, which was why he usually did his shopping on Mondays.

But life happens and suddenly your cat is a human and the pizza girl thinks he’s your boyfriend and with all the ruckus your grocery run gets pushed back to the day you least want to be there.

Yu mentally scolded himself for being overdramatic as he tried to ignore the stares of the other customers in the crowded store. It was a weak scolding, and quickly growing weaker as he overheard a hushed conversation further down the spice aisle.

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Who?”

“You know, Narukami? The pro golfer?”

“Oh. Yeah, it kinda looks like him. Since when did you care about golf?”

“Who cares about golf? They say he’s got a secret boyfriend.”

Yu winced, then took a bottle of cumin from the shelf and pretended to read the label.

“Oh my God.”

“Right? And he—Hey, wait! Where are you going?!”

Watching them dash out of the aisle, Yu rolled the cumin bottle between his thumb and his other four fingers. He put it in his basket next to the other curry ingredients and headed toward the meat section.

Putting the thought of his own tarnished public image aside as he passed the boxed curry mixes, Yu wondered how Hayato felt about the whole situation, if people thinking they were together would bother him, if it’d affect their friendship. Hayato hadn’t said much about it, apart from apologies for getting him into this mess.

Yu paused to look at a half price sauce base, glancing quickly at the expiration date, then tossing it into his basket as he made a mental note not to let Hayato eat that one.

Hayato, who was about to be thrown into the limelight for supposedly being someone’s “secret gay lover,” had only said sorry and nothing else. Yu chewed on the inside of his lip, thinking ‘ _at least he never leaves the apartment_ ’ as he let his gaze rest on the shelf, not really looking at it, but just giving his eyes a direction to look. Then again, the delivery girl was the only person who knew what Hayato looked like. That much would be true until Monday.

“Beef,” he reminded himself, forcing his legs to move again. His mind wandered more easily.

_Is he even—_

Yu stopped in front of the beef, feeling the chill from the cooler. The area was strangely devoid of people compared to the mass gathering crowded around the fish. Yu blinked, both shocked and relieved to have the attention taken off himself. He grabbed a couple packages of beef tips and started to turn away, but the crowd captured his curiosity, and he found himself taking small steps toward it as his mind tried to figure out what kind of sale could be so captivating that it distracted half the store.

As he got closer and found windows between the heads of strangers, he also found an all too familiar sight of deep brown locks falling over pale green eyes. A sight he’d seen many times, but only once before in person.

With a tiny, involuntary gasp, Yu’s thoughts fell silent, and the space around him grew quiet in comparison to the heartbeat in his ears. For a moment, his world was nothing more than a portrait of a gorgeous man, wearing a spiked collar that didn’t at all match the blue-green sweater that brought out the color of his soft green eyes, lost deep in thoughts of what fish would look best on his dinner plate.

And what a beautiful world it was.

A bump to the shoulder and a stranger’s apology pulled Yu back to his senses. He mumbled an apology of his own back, but the person was already lost in the crowd. Yu looked back up, his eyes wandering over that perfect face again, hair to eyes to ears to mouth.

_‘He lives pretty close. Like four blocks down.’_

“Right,” Yu said quietly to himself as Hayato’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been shopping at the same store all this time, but just on different days, and how many items he’d purchased that Zen might have touched, how many fish Zen had picked up and put back the same way he was picking them up and putting them back just then.

Yu smiled, small and to himself, then turned his back to the crowd and pulled his shopping list back out as he walked toward the produce.

“Yu?”

He halted, knowing exactly whose soft, but strong voice that was, and being a bit surprised that he’d heard it even amidst the usual racket of the store. He felt his face grow warm and shook his head.

_Must mean someone else. There’s no way he’d—_

“It’s you, right?”

Though expecting he might look like a fool, the voice was closer, so he turned around.

And there stood Zen, not even a meter away, looking straight at him.

And there stood Yu, barely managing to press Zen’s name through his stutters, otherwise frozen.

And there stood the crowd, murmuring gossip.

“Do they know each other?”

“I think so. They were on that show together once, right? The one Sachiko’s always watching?”

“But wasn’t he just ignoring him?”

But Zen’s presence proved louder than their comments, filling Yu’s ears with a strange fuzz that seemed to drown out everything except Zen’s voice.

“It’s been a while.”

“Y-yeah,” Yu agreed, staring at Zen’s shoes, because between the gleam of Zen’s eyes, teeth, and collar, his face was just too bright. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zen said back, looking Yu over with curious eyes. Yu glanced up just long enough to notice, then his eyes shot back down to those designer shoes and he shoved his shopping list into his pocket before his sweaty hands could ruin the handwriting.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Yu said with a laugh that was more nerves than humor, and he was fairly sure he’d forgotten to smile just then.

“How could I forget?”

Yu’s face flushed red in an instant. He lifted his head, searching Zen for some sign of sarcasm or a joke, but found none.

_He remembered._

Yu couldn’t find his voice either, but he did find himself, ears and neck red, staring at Zen’s confused and, as time passed, slightly worried face.

“Are you okay?”

Zen put his hand to Yu’s forehead. It was cold, in stark contrast to the heat radiating from Yu’s face.  His own fingers limp and slick with sweat, Yu dropped his groceries, the basket landing with a thump on the floor next to his feet. Zen took his hand back, then bent down and picked up the basket.

“You look sick,” he said, offering the groceries back to their almost owner.

“Thanks,” Yu replied, taking the basket back and trying to focus the strength that hadn’t been sapped away by Zen’s charms on his knees and his hands. “You’re an ice pack.”

 _He touched me,_ Yu thought, smiling to himself as he checked the items in the basket. _He_ touched _me._

When Yu looked up, Zen was wearing a confused frown. His brows furrowed slightly as he looked at his palms.

“You’re… welcome?”

Zen turned his hands over, and frowned a little deeper. Yu watched him for a bit, but as the high from being touched wore off, Yu’s gaze found its way back to his footwear.

“I should get going.”

With his body already turned a quarter of the way toward the produce section and a hand on his neck, Yu began to nod out a farewell only to be interrupted.

“Wait, I… I have a question.”

Heartbeat pounding and mouth dry, Yu wordlessly turned himself back around to face Zen.

“What fish is the oiliest?”

Yu blinked, mentally repeating the question to himself, wondering if he’d misheard it or if it was a joke.

“My dietitian said I need more fish oil,” Zen clarified with a small nod toward the fish.

“Fish oil?” Yu asked Zen, his eyebrows falling into a tiny frown that went unseen under his bangs as he asked himself what issue Zen’s dietitian could have possibly found with Zen’s perfect hair.

The two of them walked to where Zen had been standing before and Zen knelt down in front of the open cooler.

“They won’t let me open the fish to check them.”

Yu started to laugh, but his laughter quickly died when he saw Zen watching him with questioning eyes. Yu cleared his throat and turned to look at something else. Then, seeing only the crowd around them, he turned to the fish, the only safe thing left to look at.

“They usually don’t.”

“I see.”

Even with the way Zen was concentrating on the fish, it didn’t take long for the silence between them to make Yu more nervous than he already was.

“Salmon and mackerel are good.”

Zen nodded. He picked up a fish with silver skin and pink meat, looking it over, and then smiling.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Yu scratched his head and looked around. He opened his mouth to excuse himself again, but when he turned back to Zen, the model was holding up the fish between them, glancing between it and Yu.

“Do you eat a lot of salmon?”

“I,” Yu paused. “I guess?”

Zen nodded again.

“Do you think I’d look good with silver hair too?”

Yu’s head jolted back in surprise, the red heat returning to his face just as quickly as the first time. He ran his fingers through his hair and over the skin he’d pulled strands from earlier that day, averting his eyes as he tried not to think about whether or not Zen could tell it was too thin.

 _He wouldn’t remember what it looked like before_ , said a voice in his head, and Yu clung to the thought the same way his fingers clung to his hair.

“You’d look good in anything.”

Zen’s eyes fell back down to the fish, and he hummed lowly in thought.

“You think so?”

Yu stole a short glance at Zen, unable to find the courage to look longer than a second.

“Yeah.”

Zen held the fish up to his forehead and then, mouth straight and eyes steady, he turned to Yu and asked, “How does it look?”

Yu glanced up again, then did a double take, releasing his hair and cupping his hand over the smile struggling to come through.

“Great,” he squeaked. Then he cleared his throat and added, “I’d buy that photo,” as nonchalantly as he could, so as to hide the fact he wasn’t joking, a fact he was somewhat ashamed to think about with Zen standing only a few feet away.

Zen lowered the fish and looked it over once more, then nodded to himself.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Yu said, quietly smiling to his grocery basket. Zen shook his head.

“You helped a lot.”

They stood there a while, each thinking their own thoughts, eyes on their own soon-to-be purchases. Seconds passed, and Yu looked around, then over to Zen, who was still examining his salmon for some reason, shimmering with a beauty that a person simply shouldn’t have while buying a fresh fish.

Yu pulled out his phone and frowned at the time, hoping Hayato wouldn’t grow tired of waiting for him and eat something before he got home.

“Do you want a photo?”

Yu flinched back, his eyes flitting up to Zen, and then as Yu pulled himself back together, they returned to his phone.

“Is… is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Zen said easily. “It’s been a while.”

Yu chewed the inside of his lip, wondering if that was a joke about modelling until he remembered.

“Since that talk show?”

Zen nodded.

“Almost a year ago.”

“Yeah…”

They’d taken a photo back then, too. An awkward one with the host standing between them, giving them each a handshake while Zen looked too serious for the occasion and Yu was tellingly staring at Zen instead of the man whose hand he was actually shaking, mouth open but saying nothing. Somehow, it’d slipped past the media radar without so much as a single gay joke. It was some sort of small miracle in Yu’s mind, though it felt hollow now that he was being called out for ordering a pizza with his human cat.

While Yu was thinking about the past, Zen took out his phone, opened the camera app and leaned in close until Yu jumped in response to the unexpected proximity. Yu opened his mouth, nearly asking why he was going to be in the photo too until he saw the disappointed way Zen’s eyebrows fell over his eyes. Yu swallowed his question and his insecurities about his recently torn out hair, and returned to his previous position, trying to ignore the way Zen brushed warm shoulders with him, and how Zen probably felt his arms shaking against his hot chest and the basket bumping into his legs.

Heart racing, Yu put his own phone away and did his best to force his mouth into the shape of a smile, sparing a thought to question when it’d become so hard to do, while the rest of his mind was embarrassingly focused on Zen’s body heat.

Zen held out his phone, and in the second before the he snapped the photo, he held up the fish between them and Yu’s smile eased into something more natural.

Zen finally pulled away, and though part of Yu was sad, most of him was relieved. Zen checked the photo, and smiling, he showed it to Yu.

“This look okay?”

Yu took a deep breath to calm himself before answering, “Yeah.”

“Did you want to take your own?”

Yu shifted his weight from one leg to the other, debating if he wanted to risk another close quarters photo before deciding he wasn’t sure the heart still violently thudding against his ribcage could take it.

“Can you send me that one?”

Zen blinked, looking a bit surprised, but didn’t question it.

“Sure, but I need your number.”

Yu froze, save for his heart climbing up his throat.

“Yu?” Zen waved at him, and Yu swallowed hard.

“My number?”

Zen frowned a little.

“…Yes?” he asked, drawing out the word as if unsure. “That’s how phones work, right?”

While the question hadn’t sounded sarcastic, before Yu knew it, he was pulling out his phone and giving Zen his number, not wanting Zen of all people to have a beef with him.

“It’s getting late,” Zen said, checking his watch despite how he was still holding his phone in his hand. “I better get going.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“See you later.”

Zen gave a small nod and a wave, and then headed toward the check-out with his fish, the more persistent and shameless souls of the dwindling crowd following him until the store staff yelled at them for clogging the aisles.

“Later,” Yu said softly, almost as an afterthought, as he watched Zen disappear behind the shelves and the crowd.

Yu put his phone away again and turned to the fish. Without thinking, he grabbed a package of salmon and tossed it into his basket.

* * *

 

When Yu got home, Hayato was sitting on the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the TV. The sounds of the baseball game still filled the apartment, and as the door fell shut behind him and he slipped out of his shoes, Yu found himself smiling at the way Hayato leaned in further when the ball cracked against the bat and fell back limply into the couch when that same ball clapped into an outfielder’s glove.

“I’m home.”

“Welcome back,” Hayato sighed, then frowned at the TV. Yu walked to the kitchen and set the groceries on the counter between the two rooms, then set his phone beside them.

“That good, huh?”

Hayato turned to him, resting his elbow on the back of the sofa.

“I thought this was gonna be their year, you know?”

Yu started to put the groceries away, slipping the salmon into the fridge and setting the curry ingredients next to the stove.

“Weren’t you saying the season just started the other day?”

“Yeah, but…” Hayato’s eyebrows fell back into the frown, and his thumb fidgeted against his fist. He looked back at the game on TV. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, no hope in sight.

Shelves full, Yu turned to the rice cooker, which was already steaming.

“You started the rice?”

“Yeah,” Hayato said without looking up from the TV. “Didn’t want the curry to get cold.”

Yu watched the steam rise from it, opening his mouth, then shutting it again when no words came out. Running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, he finally settled on, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The ball slapped into the catcher’s glove, and Hayato grabbed the remote and clicked off the television. “You want help?”

“I think I’m good,” Yu said, but somehow he still ended up cooking the meat next to Hayato, who’d started chopping the vegetables even without an invitation. Yu had a small urge to stop him, but Hayato had this oddly natural way about his cutting, almost like a real chef, and it didn’t seem right to argue with a person holding a knife.

“You feeling better?” Hayato asked without looking up from the carrot he was working on. Yu leaned away from Hayato, slightly toward the fridge, shuffling his feet closer together.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

Yu set his hand on the counter beside the stove, fingers curled in around his thumb. His eyes were turned toward the spices just past his hand, but he wasn’t looking at them, his pupils dancing between different thoughts. He knew why Hayato was asking, well aware of how his brain had sucked the good intentions out of a twice heard sentence.

Still waiting for his answer, Hayato set down his knife and turned to Yu.

“Yeah,” Yu ran a hand through his hair, his eyes still on the spices and missing the way Hayato tensed up when Yu’s fingers reached his head. “For now.”

Hayato relaxed and nodded, pulling his attention back to the half-chopped carrot, but then letting his eyes flit back to Yu.

“I’m here for you.” Hayato gave a small shrug. “You know, if you need me.”

 _I do_ , Yu thought, the corner of his mouth on the side of his face that Hayato couldn’t see pulling back into a tiny frown. His fingers squeezed his thumb tight as he tried to sort and separate the thoughts of Yosuke from those of Hayato. It was unfair to make Hayato suffer for the things Yosuke said, and if Yosuke had been trying to tell him what he’d been trying to figure out since then, for the things Yu, in his mind at least, probably needed to hear.

_‘You don’t have to do this.’_

Even just as an echo in his head, the words dropped like a needle sinking into his stomach, dread spreading from its tip like a poison.

His nails dug into his thumb on the counter, and the hand on his head fell to wrap over his middle.

 _Then what_ do _I have to do?_

Feeling a hand weigh on his shoulder, Yu’s mind returned to the present and he turned to the hand, then followed the arm up to Hayato’s face.

“I’m here,” Hayato repeated, something strong and bold in his voice anchoring the words down, planting them in Yu’s brain, a seed planted in an ocean of drowning thoughts.

“Thanks.”

Though small and weak, a smile sprouted on Yu’s face, then grew, and as he reached for the ingredients to the sauce, it blossomed into laughter. His body shook, and he bumped shoulders with Hayato, whose own face slowly shifted from slightly offended confusion to accepting amusement. Losing his balance to the laughter, Yu fell against Hayato’s side. Hayato’s face lit up, a rosy pink Yu couldn’t see through his teary eyes, Hayato’s mouth falling round with surprise, but quickly recovering. Hayato adjusted himself, sliding his arm back between them and hovering his hand over Yu’s waist.

“Sorry,” Yu said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, his own face flushed from the laughing fit, still bright with his smile, and only inches from Hayato’s face, which was flushed for its own reasons.

Hayato shook his head.

“Don’t fall.”

Yu gave a small nod, and Hayato matched it, bringing their faces close enough that his bangs brushed against Yu’s, hooking and tangling hairs together for an instant long enough for Hayato to forget how to breathe.

Forgetting his hand too, he let it settle against the small of Yu’s back.

Yu’s eyes darted up to meet his, lids and whites wide, pupils shaking as his smile faded.

A quick hand to Hayato’s chest and another clamped to the edge of the counter, Yu pulled himself out of Hayato’s grasp and hurried to stir the meat again, his heart racing faster than his hands. Hayato coughed as his lungs reminded him that he needed air to live, then picked up the knife, setting out to finish chopping the carrot.

Silence fell between them. Yu stirred the meat and Hayato slid the vegetables in over it. They gave each other glances, nervous, curious, and once caught, a little long, then longer, until, Hayato, at least, wasn’t just glancing. Then catching Yu’s eyes when they returned, he smirked, and Yu felt his face glow with a heat not unlike the burner below, which his eyes bashfully darted to.

“Hey, Yu?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember that first night you brought me home?”

Yu kept his eyes on the pot, his hand fumbling around the counter for the spoon while he tried to pretend that question came from a cat instead of a human.

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t get mad at me even though I stole your dinner.”

Hayato turned around to lean back against the counter.

“You were a cat,” Yu weakly protested as he stirred.

“You’d get mad if I did it now?”

“I don’t know.” Yu took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.  “Probably.”

“Whatever.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“Nah,” Hayato said, smiling at the ceiling. “You’re a big softie.”

Yu wasn’t sure how to take that comment on his character, and he frowned slightly as it mulled it over.

“Just because you’d get away with it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be mad.”

“Oh.”

When Yu looked up from the curry, Hayato was aiming that smirk at him again.

“What?”

“So you’re saying I’d get away with it?”

Yu gave him a shove, one too gentle to hold genuine anger, and Hayato laughed at him.

“If I’m a softie, what does that make you?”

“An ass, I guess.”

“I guess.”

Hayato returned the shove, again, too gentle, and with a smile that Yu easily shared with him.

“Anyway, thanks.”

The heat returned to Yu’s cheeks, but softer, and strangely welcome. Yu had a theory that had something to do with how the blush seemed to be evenly distributed to Hayato too, who was smiling despite the way his face matched his socks.

“You’ve done a lot for me,” Hayato continued, hooking his fingers under the edge of the counter. “I know you don’t think it’s much, but it is.”

The smile faded from Yu’s face, but the blush didn’t. Without a word, Yu turned his eyes back to the curry. He stirred it again and added spices, occasionally passing glances to Hayato, who was watching the ceiling again, this time with a soft, wistful expression, like he’d found a good memory to view in the theater of his thoughts.

Neither of them spoke for a while, and eventually Yu’s redness began to melt away. Began, and then came back with a fierce intensity when his mind thought of Zen, there in the supermarket, talking to him, smiling at him, touching him, hands and shoulders, _touching him_. The spoon clanked against the side of the pan, Yu having dropped it to brush his fingers over his forehead, his arm, where he’d felt the pressure of Zen’s weight on him, then remembering Hayato’s heat on those same places.

Hayato was still a bit pink, Yu noticed when he glanced over again. Hayato was smiling to himself. _Still_ smiling, Yu thought. He, too, was smiling though, he realized. Yu chuckled weakly and, fingertips sliding from his arm, he took up the spoon again.

Yu finished cooking the curry, and Hayato broke out of his nostalgia spell to pull the dishes out of the cupboard. He walked them to the table, and started to set it.

“Hayato.”

Hayato paused, arm out as he held a bowl over Yu’s usual place at the table. He turned to Yu.

“Let’s eat in the living room.”

Hayato pulled his arm back and set the dishes down on the part of the table nearest to him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Yu turned off the stove. “Your show’s on tonight, right?”

Yu’s phone buzzed against the countertop. Closer to it, Hayato picked it up.

“Y-yeah,” Hayato said sheepishly. “If that’s cool with you.” He looked down at the phone, feeling a tinge of guilt when he saw the crack across the bottom of the screen. “You’ve got a text.”

Yu felt his heart thump hard; hard enough to make him wonder if Hayato had seen him jolt from it. He walked to Hayato’s side and took the phone from him a little too eagerly.

“You expecting something?” Hayato peered over Yu’s shoulder, standing on his toes to do so.

“Sorta.”

Yu opened the text, fingers shaking.

_‘Here is the pit’_

Beneath it was the photo from the supermarket: Yu side by side with Zen, a fish shining between them, framed by the glint of Zen’s collar and Yu’s smile. Just looking at it made Yu’s knees feel a little weak again and his face feel a little heat again.

Behind him, Hayato’s face tightened.

The phone vibrated again. Another message.

_‘**photo’_

Yu let out a laugh, too loud with nerves. He rushed his hand to cover his mouth and coughed.

“And you thought you couldn’t get his number.”

He felt Hayato’s fist gently pressing against the back of his shoulder.

“You’ll be hooked up with Prince Charming in no time,” Hayato continued, his face not quite matching his cheerful tone.

Yu had stopped smiling too. He quietly saved the photo and Zen’s phone number to his phone, texted back a short thank you, and then put the phone in his back pocket.

“You ask him out yet?” Hayato asked, slinging his arm over Yu’s shoulder.

“The curry’s getting cold,” Yu said as he pulled himself out from under Hayato’s weight. Hayato’s eyebrows raised as he watched Yu grab a bowl and then start to fill it with rice. “How much do you want?”

Hearing no answer, Yu turned back to Hayato, who stood there silently, arms crossed and eyebrows aloft, eyes slowly passing between Yu and the clock on the wall above the sink. It read 8:16 pm.

Yu shrunk when the eyes fell back on him.

“What?”

“I…” Hayato paused to take a breath that came out heavier than it went in. “I don’t get it.”

Yu looked down at the bowl in his hand, chewing his lip as he listened to the second hand countdown to 8:17. When it finally got there, he asked, “Do you want more rice or not?”

“How does—” Hayato lowered his head and shook it, trying to shuffle the words in his head into the correct order. “How does someone like you—the best golfer in all of Japan—how do you get this far and… and…”

Hayato’s eyebrows fell into a frown, but as he lifted his gaze back to Yu, his eyebrows followed, his frustration erased by the way Yu was clutching the bowl, and the way the edge of his mouth was trembling.

“I’m sorry.” Hayato rushed to Yu’s side, at least, as much as he could rush in the space of three steps, putting his hands over Yu’s, holding them so as to not let them drop the bowl, gently squeezing them so as to prevent them from breaking the bowl in two. Yu had jumped just a little at the sudden contact, but he didn’t pull back.

“I’m sorry,” Hayato repeated. “I’m really sorry. Just—just forget it. And—and that’s plenty of rice. Thanks.”

Yu shook his head, partly to let Hayato know it was fine, but partly because he couldn’t find the reason the words had hurt so much in the first place. His brain was still piecing it together while his heart flooded his chest with a dull ache that had been sharp just moments ago.

_How can you be so ‘good,’ and yet…_

_And yet what?_

He did know that he wanted Hayato to stop talking about Zen at least, and Hayato had stopped. He’d done that, and then accepted the dish with a nervous, cautious smile, and then started to pour curry over the rice in it, Yu watching him all the while.

“Second best,” Yu said, his voice too meek for his body. Hayato looked up from his bowl.

“What?”

“Second best golfer,” he said again, a little louder.

“Only because I fucked up your shot.”

A short silence as their gazes floated to the floor, and then, “I guess.”

When Hayato brought his gaze back up, Yu’s mouth was fighting back a smile that’d already conquered his eyes.

“Shut up,” Hayato said with an easy smile, weakly bumping shoulders with Yu on his way out of the kitchen.

“Sorry.” Yu took up his own bowl and filled it while Hayato returned to his spot on the couch.

“No, it’s fine.” Hayato turned the TV back on and, after making a face at the final score on the post-game show, he started to flip through the channels. “I deserved that.”

Yu took two bottled drinks from the fridge, one cola and one tea, and left the kitchen as the fridge door fell shut. He joined Hayato on the sofa and held out the two drinks, caps hooked between the fingers of his left hand, the bowl of curry rice held upright in his right. Hayato took the cola, and after setting his phone on the coffee table, Yu smiled to himself as he watched Hayato twist it open and take a swig. As the bottle came back down, their eyes met again, and Yu turned his attention down to his curry, the food warming his lap through the bowl.

“Sorry, did you want this?” Hayato held the bottle out to Yu.

“No.” Yu shook his head and dug his spoon into the rice. “I knew you’d take that one.”

Hayato frowned to himself, and noticing the silence, Yu lifted his head to notice the frown too.

“I mean it. I bought it for you.”

Yu turned back to his food, passing a glance at the cartoon on the TV screen on the way while Hayato’s eyes were glued to the open bottle in his hand, and his thumb was rubbing against the perspiration-peppered soda label as he tried to ignore the warm feeling in his face.

“Thanks.” The word tumbled out before Hayato could take the sheepishness out of it, but it wasn’t a huge loss, he found, with Yu lightly elbowing him and nodding to the TV. He either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, it seemed, and Hayato nodded back and turned to the screen, silently thankful for the rerun when his mind was stuck on other things. Important things. Things like the patient, thoughtful guy next to him, and how he’d been in his arms not so long ago.

And how he’d been leaning against someone else’s arm for a photo not so long ago.

And how he thought it didn’t mean anything.

Hayato sucked the sauce out of the curried meat in his mouth as he mulled over the situation, the spices stinging his tongue. Maybe it didn’t mean anything, he thought. At least, not yet.

“Taste okay?”

Hayato blinked. He finished chewing the chunk of meat and swallowed it.

“Yeah.” Hayato glanced over to Yu’s bowl, already half empty, then he took another bite of his own meal, feeling a bit of relief to see Yu’s appetite return. “Say, Yu?”

“Yeah?”

“Is everything really okay?”

Yu tapped his spoon against the bottom of the empty half of his bowl, then sighed and leaned back against the back of the sofa.

“I’m worried about Monday.”

“Oh.”

Hayato stuffed another spoonful of rice into his mouth, and Yu did the same, passively watching the cartoon hero rescue his love interest from a villain who had a bizarre fixation with teeth. Once the two of them reached safety, they exchanged some flirty dialogue that Yu rushed to drown out with the sound of his own chewing. Yu looked over what remained of his meal, letting his stomach and his thoughts settle, and once the scene passed, he continued.

“I hope I’m not bald by then,” Yu said with a weak smile. Hayato tried to match it, and then set down his spoon.

“Me too,” he said. “But, um, I meant like, between us.”

The spoon clinked against the bowl again.

“Is it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”

Yu’s expression fell, and he chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed the rice around his dish.

“What are you thinking?” Hayato eventually asked, hoping the prompt would help.

“I… I don’t know.” Yu shook his head. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I want it to be.”

Hayato waited, but Yu didn’t say anything else, only stopped rearranging the rice and started tapping the spoon faster than before.

“I meant what I said. About the day we met.”

His appetite having already dried up, Yu set his bowl on the coffee table and picked up his bottle of tea, his hands quickly starting to fidget with the cap.

“A lot’s changed since then.”

“Yeah,” Hayato said, then repeated again, heavier. “ _Yeah._ ” And then he smiled. “But you’re still here for me. Every day.”

Eyes averted and fingers twisting the bottle cap back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, Yu Narukami was blushing.

Hayato couldn’t blame him. It was mushier than their usual conversations, which up until a little over a week ago had mostly consisted of playful questions, meows, and purring. Hayato was feeling a little red himself.

“And,” Hayato began again, setting his own bowl next to Yu’s. “I’ve had my mean moments, too. So if this is still about the catnip thing, don’t worry about it.”

Yu didn’t say anything, but he did turn to face Hayato with a distinctly pink yet quizzical look.

“What?” Hayato asked with a tense laugh, hoping Yu didn’t notice just quite how tense.

“Uh…” Yu rubbed his neck, head down, looking at the bottle in his hand. “I won’t deny that you’re kind of an ass, but…”

Yu’s face burned bright as he realized what the ‘but’ was.

_But when you’re an ass, it’s cute._

He swallowed the words, knowing there was no way he could ever bring himself to say them.

Hayato gave him a playful nudge, pulling the tiniest, most nervous smile out of Yu.

“I forgive you if you forgive me.”

“I forgive you.” Yu’s voice wavered a bit from the nerves, but was grounded with a serious enough tone to be believable. Maybe too serious, even, since Hayato had a hard time not laughing at it.

“Even for stealing your fish? And sleeping in your clean laundry?”

Yu’s smile grew, just a little bit.

“Even for that.”

“And for peeing on you?”

Yu sighed, but the smile remained.

“Yes, even that.”

Pulling his leg up and under himself, and leaning in, perhaps a bit too close, Hayato asked, “And for tearing the book cover on your copy of—”

“Hayato,” Yu said, gingerly placing a hand on Hayato’s shoulder. “Do you want me to forgive you or not?”

“Wait, so who’s asking who for forgiveness?”

A small shove backward from Yu, and Hayato was laughing freely.

“God, you were so pissed when I did that.”

“Yeah,” Yu said, his smile wider, though his face still had a bashful glow. “I guess I was.”

“I thought you were gonna toss me out right then.”

Yu lifted his head and turned to Hayato, eyes and mouth open, when it hit him that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only person afraid of being alone.

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

Hayato laughed at him again, though quieter and less sure than before.

“You weren’t seriously considering it, were you?”

Yu feigned a doubtful look, drawing his hand to his chin, and Hayato shoved him.

“And _I’m_ supposed to be the ass?”

“You’re the one that said it.”

Hayato leaned over again, closer than last time, if that was possible. He’d placed his hand on Yu’s thigh in a way that could have been a little too intimate if it weren’t for the way Hayato had put all his weight on his palm, which was painfully sinking into Yu’s flesh.

“You agreed.”

And Hayato’s face was close. So close Yu could feel Hayato’s breath, the heat behind his words, on his own lips. So close he was forced to look into Hayato’s charcoal eyes. So close he could count the eyelashes around them. Long. Soft, probably. Thick and dark, like the rest of his hair, which was nearly touching Yu’s face.

“Ye…” Yu sucked on the inside of his lower lip, then swallowed, touching the tips of his clammy fingers to the back of Hayato’s heavier hand. “Y-yeah…”

Hayato blinked, and the mischief fell from his face, leaving only a solid mask of hot crimson in its place.

“Shit,” he said, voice both hushed and hurried as he tore his hand from Yu’s leg before thinking to bring back the rest of his body first, and clumsily toppling down sideways over Yu’s lap and the bottle in it. Yu awkwardly hovered his hands over Hayato’s back, not sure if he needed help, but eventually settling on Hayato’s shoulders to steady him as he rose back up, still shaking, though barely. “Sorry. That was—um…”

On his way back up to sitting upright, while his mind remained aflutter with embarrassment, Hayato’s hand managed to land itself back on Yu’s thigh like some kind of poorly timed physical equivalent of a Freudian slip. He noticed almost immediately and reeled his hand back as he felt fate and the universe laughing at him, shaking him from the inside out.

“ _God_ , sorry. I’m…” Hayato groaned and dragged his hands down and over his face. Yu put his drink on the table, then watched him, lips pursed together tight and legs slowly moving to copy them.

“Uh…” Yu’s eyes darted around the lower half of the room while he racked his brain for something to say. “Cat habit?”

Hayato dropped his hands from his face, then feeling emotionally bare, he crossed his arms and brought his knees to his chin to ease the chill of vulnerability’s draft, his feet hooked over the edge of the couch.

“Maybe,” he mumbled to his knees as his eyes settled on the cartoon again. Truth be told, he was pretty sure it hadn’t been, but he’d feel better if it had.

Yu watched him again, sinking his teeth deeper into the inside of his cheek with every second Hayato spent sulking. Gradually, his cheek’s flesh slipped free and his teeth clicked back together, and as though the click had been a timer going off, Yu found himself unable to fight the pressure to speak.

“I don’t mind them.” He pinched the hem of his shirt between his thumb and index finger. “The cat habits.”

Hayato didn’t react, lost in his own thoughts of how _he_ minded them.

“I…” Yu turned away, his face not unlike how Hayato’s had been a few moments ago. “I, uh…”

Yu took a deep breath, then, setting a hand on one of Hayato’s, and Hayato glancing up just then, he pressed on.

“I-I like them,” Yu said, eyes glued to their hands because he couldn’t bring himself to look at Hayato’s face. “I mean, I like being touched.”

Even with his eyes on their hands, Yu could feel Hayato’s gaze burrowing into him, telling him his addendum didn’t make it sound any better.

He tightened his clasp on Hayato’s hand and looked away.

“You’re warm.”

“You're one to talk.”

Yu glanced at Hayato to make sure the smile he heard in Hayato’s voice was real. He raised a hand to his face, and sure enough, his skin was hot.

“You’re an ass.”

He heard Hayato laugh at him, and smiled in spite of himself, running one hand through his hair and taking the other back as he felt Hayato withdraw from under his grip. He rested that hand at his side, but soon felt a familiar fluffy warmth pressing against his arm. When he turned to investigate, he found Hayato leaning into him, head first, same as a week ago, but this time wide awake and grinning.

“So you like this, huh?” Hayato made a mock cat gesture, raising his arms and curling his fingers in, hanging his hands like paws.

Yu felt something clawing its way up his throat, but he couldn’t be sure if it was a laugh, a scream, or the curry, so he swallowed it and plastered his mouth shut with a wobbly, twitchy grin.

And Hayato continued, rubbing his head into Yu’s arm, and after Yu lifted it, into Yu’s side. He wriggled his way under Yu’s arm, fitting his head in the space under Yu’s chin. He pressed his body against Yu’s with enough force to lie him flat on the couch.

“And this?” he asked, nudging Yu’s chin up with the top of his head. He gently kneaded Yu’s chest and belly, making himself right at home on his roommate, as though he had a bed for a body instead of flesh.

Beneath all of this, Yu’s smile had evened and grown, lips and teeth spreading to bare his laughter. His body shook under Hayato’s hot palms as he made weak, unconvincing pleas between stronger giggles for Hayato to stop. Hayato didn’t stop, but did slow down to savor the moment, grinning ear to ear as he watched Yu catch his breath, and once Yu had caught it, Hayato continued, rolling over Yu’s body and—

“And—”

–and onto the floor, dragging Yu, who had noticed the danger too late and reached to catch him, with him.

His pride smashed flat somewhere beneath them, Hayato felt the red return, but before he could pity himself, he felt Yu shaking behind him, Yu’s laughter brushing his neck and shifting his hair, and soon he too was laughing. He rolled over, surprise making him forget to smile for the second when Yu’s arm settled back on his waist, but the rare blissful expression on Yu’s face was quick to remind him.

There was a strange kind of heat growing from his belly and climbing up through his chest. Hayato couldn’t quite place it. Something comfortable, something safe. Like a crush, but without the cold crushing anxiety that gave it its name.

And the crush wandering back into his mind, he wondered if Yu felt the warmth too just then. If that sense of belonging, sense of _home_ , had been real or imagined.

“Is… is this really okay?” Hayato asked, his smile weighed down with doubt.

Yu’s own smile tapered off as he was forced to look back into his own thoughts. After several seconds of heavy deliberation that brought his brows together and his gaze to the floor, he finally answered.

“You know what it’s like to be lonely?”

His arm tightened around Hayato’s waist.

Hayato nodded and placed his hand on Yu’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” he said, side-eyeing the floor.

The TV chattered on from the opposite side of the room.

Yu sighed.

“Sorry.”

Hayato shook his head and rubbed Yu’s arm.

“Nah, it’s cool.”

Yu started to slide his arm back, but as his hand reached Hayato’s side, he found that Hayato’s waist fit the curve of his fingers well enough to convince him to pause them there.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Hayato smiled at him, and Yu smiled back. It was a bit smaller, but the smile was there, and it was all Hayato needed to see. He pulled Yu in close, resting his chin on Yu’s head. He draped his arms around Yu’s neck and shoulders and stroked Yu’s hair, careful to keep his fingers to the back of his head where nothing had been pulled.

They stayed that way until Hayato’s show ended and the station moved on to other programming. Yu didn’t move, save to close his eyes. Minutes passed, and the spring night grew colder. It wasn’t until Hayato noticed the bumps on Yu’s arms that either of them spoke.

“You wanna move to the futon?”

Hayato felt Yu’s forehead rub his collarbone when he nodded. Slowly, the two of them separated and sat up, still huddled close in the narrow space between the coffee table to the couch. Hayato reached for the remote control and switched off the television.

“You done eating?” Yu asked. Hayato nudged him playfully in response, and Yu assumed that meant yes. Hayato stood up first, then helped Yu up too. Yu faltered on his sleeping leg, but found his balance somewhere between Hayato’s hand and the couch’s arm.

They took their leftovers to the kitchen, covered them, and slipped them into the fridge before grabbing Yu’s phone and making their way toward the bedroom. Yu paused in the hall between his bedroom and the bathroom to frown at the shower. He felt Hayato tug his wrist toward the bedroom.

Yu looked at Hayato, then glanced back at the bathroom.

“I should…”

Hayato shook his head.

“It’s fine.”

Yu stood there a few more seconds, sucking on the inside of his bottom lip.

“You don’t want to, right?” Hayato said, rolling his thumb over the bone in Yu’s wrist. Yu answered him with a wry smile and a short breath through his nose, a laugh that wasn’t.

“When was the last time you took a bath?” Yu asked.

“Do I smell?”

Yu blinked.

“No.”

“Neither do you.” And with that, Hayato pulled Yu out of his indecision and into the bedroom. He let go of Yu’s wrist to kneel down and lay out the futon, Yu watching him from somewhere far in the depths of his foggier thoughts and fingering the warm ring lingering around his wrist where Hayato’s hand had been. Yu tore himself away long enough to change into his sleepwear, but his eyes kept wandering back to Hayato. When Hayato finished, Yu kept watching, his eyes seeing but his brain too distant from the present, lost in the fog. Hayato put his hand on Yu’s and gently tugged him back to reality. With a guilty, nervous chuckle, Yu knelt down next to him only to have Hayato leaning back into him a moment later, eyes closed and resting his head on Yu’s shoulder. Yu paused just long enough to let the blush fill his face, then grabbed his phone.

Hayato yawned and opened his eyes, then pinched Yu’s side when he saw the texting application open.

Yu cringed, and then, as the cringe faded, he said too late, “…Ow.”

“Bed time.”

“Yeah, I…” Yu furrowed his brow and tapped Kanji’s name. “Just a sec.”

“Can’t it wait?”

There was a short silence as Yu thought out his answer.

“It won’t take long.”

Hayato groaned into Yu’s shoulder. Yu smiled to himself, finding small flicker of amusement in how quickly Hayato had made himself comfortable at, no, _in_ his side again. He returned his attention to his phone and typed out a message, then double checked it.

_‘Hey. We haven’t talked in a while. We should catch up. Want to get lunch sometime?’_

With a deep breath, he swiftly hit the send button before his second thoughts could catch up with him.

Yu laid his phone down beside the futon and let Hayato’s weight push him down.

“Finally.”

That pulled out another smile, and Yu wrapped an arm around Hayato’s waist. He rolled his head from side to side, then stared at the ceiling.

“The pillow’s on the other side.”

“Yeah,” Hayato confirmed without making a single effort to fix it. Fifteen or so seconds later he flinched when he felt Yu’s thumb digging into him. “ _What?_ ”

“Revenge,” Yu said simply, without a trace malice, just before the pillow plummeted into his face. But he accepted it with a smile all the same, and pulled it under his head as he added, “Light’s still on.”

“Get it yourself.”

Yu lifted his head to look down at Hayato, who had curled himself around Yu’s side and laid his head on Yu’s chest.

“You sure I should do that?”

Hayato gave a small moan in protest, but in time he did as he was told and returned to his spot.

“Good night,” Yu said, squeezing Hayato’s waist as he pulled the duvet over them.

“Good night,” Hayato said, his irritated smirk easing into something more affectionate as his eyelids fell. 

* * *

 

The morning came softly, sunlight and the sounds of the city waking them instead of the usual alarm. They laid side by side, both awake, but not really, stubborn eyes still shut while Yu and Hayato baked under the sun soaking through the blanket and the heat flowing between their bodies.

Feeling Hayato’s legs shuffle and fidget below, Yu broke the silence.

“Morning,” he said without opening his eyes, his breath pushing and pulling the wilder strands of Hayato’s hair.

“Morning,” Hayato mumbled as he pulled his nose out of the space between Yu’s collarbones. He laid his head on the pillow across from Yu’s and rubbed his eyes. Yu yawned, then opened his own and blinked away the sleep. Hayato slowly blinked back at him with a smile that was lop-sided from the way his cheek was squished against the pillow. Yu returned the smile, small and shy at first, then growing into something that spread across his whole face. Hayato’s was quick to follow, and soon the two of them were giggling.

When the laughter faded, their eyes held on to each other while Yu’s hand wandered up and down Hayato’s back, fingers filling the dips in Hayato’s skin. His shirt had been pulled up to bare his belly and lower back over the course of the night, but neither seemed to mind.

“This is nice,” Yu said, his gaze falling to Hayato’s lips, then climbing back up. “Waking up together like this.”

Hayato hummed back in agreement, his mouth too busy with the smile to make words.

As they laid together a while longer, something gnawed at the edge of Yu’s mind, sharp and cold. Eventually Hayato pulled himself away and stood up, stretching his arms far over his head, and then behind his back. And though entranced by the visible contours of Hayato’s muscles through his shirt and the bare patches beneath it, dread pricked at the center of Yu’s chest.

“I’m gonna get breakfast started,” Hayato said while he headed toward the door.

As Yu watched Hayato pull his shirt down on his way out, an emergency vehicle’s siren pierced through the usual morning bustle.

And it hit him.

“ _Dammit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long.
> 
> SOMETHING HAPPIER or is it? 8D;;;
> 
> Not gonna lie, I spent so much time thinking about the Zen scene that I started to ship it unironically and slaghlhgadfh this is still a wildcardshipping fic but hhhhhhHHHHH
> 
> "OTL


	16. Chapter 16

In the time she’d spent dating Yosuke Hanamura, Shouko had taken note of several particularities.

She’d literally taken note of them, on the fourth to last page of her diary, where she hoped Yosuke wouldn’t find it in a lapse of judgment brought on by strong curiosity or weak self-esteem, or at least, not before she figured out how to confront him about the things on the list. She tapped the pencil against the paper as she reconsidered for the umpteenth time if she wasn’t being too distrustful after they’d been going steady for months and moved in together, but put the thought aside as her eyes wandered down the list.

* * *

 

_Alcohol makes him anxious._

“You’re home early,” Shouko said, looking up from the clock she’d dissected. Its insides were scattered over the entire kitchen table, save for the space occupied by her mug. Yosuke closed the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and dragged himself into their modest kitchen. Eyes glazed over, he shuffled to the table and reached for Shouko’s mug, but she lightly slapped the back of his hand, and in return, he groaned and fell back against the counter. He was being a little too melodramatic, but Shouko just smiled and returned to tinkering with the cogs.

“C’mon, Shouko…”

“Make your own.”

Yosuke whined, and leaned forward until he was hanging over Shouko, hands on her shoulders and tie in her face. Without looking up from her screwdriver, she tossed the tie back over his shoulder.

“The party was that fun, huh?”

“Yeah.” Yosuke summoned what remained of his energy to roll his eyes. “ _Fun_.”

He rested his chin on Shouko’s head and watched her work. He had no idea what she was doing. The clock hadn’t needed surgery last he checked, but not all surgery was necessary, he supposed. Shouko was never one to follow the ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ motto. Everything could be improved, whether it was the clock or her understanding of said clock, and he knew if he asked, that’s all she’d tell him.

“Not going to tell me about how fun it was?”

As if finding his second wind, Yosuke pushed himself back up and circled the table, flailing his arms a different direction with every frustrated phrase that came out of his mouth.

“They can’t be bothered to give me two seconds of their time to fix the printer at work, but as soon as they’re wasted it’s ‘Yosuke, we should hang out more!’ ‘Yosuke, let’s go to karaoke after this!’ ‘Yosuke, why aren’t you married yet? My daughter is single!’”

“She’s not prettier than me, is she?”

“I don’t know.” Yosuke sat down at the opposite side of the table, setting his elbows in the space between the gears and resting his face in his hands. “I’ve never met her.”

“That’s not the correct answer,” Shouko said with a bemused smile.

“Would it make a difference if she was?”

“You never know.”

Yosuke dropped his hands down to the table.

“Even if, _if,_ she was, I don’t think I have enough luck left in this lifetime to date out of my league twice.”

Shouko giggled to herself and reached for a different screwdriver.

“Who said anything about you? Maybe I’m looking for someone in my league.”

Yosuke looked up at her, eyes tired and heavy.

“I know you’re joking, but don’t say stuff like that. _Please_.”

“Sorry.” Shouko shrugged. “So you’re home early because everyone was too friendly?”

“You say that like they weren’t hanging all over me like… like zombies or something. It was creepy.”

Yosuke reached for Shouko’s mug again, only to have it swiped before he could grab it. He groaned, and Shouko took a sip.

“What if it was me instead?”

Yosuke frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“What does that even mean?”

Shouko set down her drink, then stood up and circled around to the other side of the table. She leaned over Yosuke, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What if it was me instead?” she said again, quietly, simply, her breath falling on his face.

Yosuke cringed and turned away from her. He picked up the mug and sniffed it, then clunked it back down, hard enough for the sound to echo through the kitchen.

“You, too?” he asked, then swore under his breath. He pushed her hands away and stood up. He gave her a hard look, and she looked back, first shocked, then hurt. Yosuke’s face softened, and he turned to the floor, mumbling a small apology before taking the long way around the table to the hall.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said without turning back.

* * *

 

_He doesn’t reminisce or brag about his first kiss. He won’t even talk about it._

“I know it’s faux pas to ask, but I was wondering, what were your other relationships like?”

Yosuke nearly choked on his soda. He coughed his straw back up and leaned back in the booth, rubbing his throat.

“You alright there?” Shouko asked, stirring her slushie.

“Yeah. I think. No thanks to you.”

Shouko smiled playfully and gave Yosuke a gentle kick under the table.

“C’mon. I’m curious.”

Yosuke tried to kick her back, but she intercepted his foot between hers, and he was trapped.

“Do you really need to know? That stuff’s kinda personal.”

“I’ll tell you about mine.”

Her feet shuffled around his like excited sharks circling their prey. Yosuke let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Fine. In fourth grade I held a girl’s hand at the park near our old house, okay?”

“Does this mystery girl have a name?”

“Probably? I didn’t ask. She told me I was cute while we were on the swings and said she’d show me how to kiss later.”

“Ooh, risqué.”

“Whatever. She dropped me as soon as I tried to do a trick and fell on my ass.” Yosuke made a pained face at his half-eaten burger. “I never got that kiss.”

Shouko covered her mouth while she giggled, then rested her chin on her hand.

“Tragic.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes.

“We were like, what? Nine years old? She was probably bluffing.”

“But you fell for it.”

Yosuke groaned and ran his hand through his hair.

“Don’t remind me.” He picked up his burger again, then paused, and lifted a finger toward Shouko. “And that’s not funny.”

Shouko let out a small chuckle, then reached across the table and put a stray lock of Yosuke’s hair back to where it had been before.

“So who was your first kiss then?”

The side of Yosuke’s mouth twitched, and his eyes dropped.

“There had to be someone else since then, right?” Shouko leaned in, wearing a small smirk. “It wasn’t me, was it?”

Yosuke turned away from her until she sat back in her chair again.

“No, but…”

He took a bite of his burger and chewed it slowly as he kept his eyes trained on the table. The smug look dropped from Shouko’s face as she picked up her slushie again and took a sip.

“Sorry,” she said when she set her cup back on the table. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Yosuke shook his head weakly.

“No, it’s…” He set down his food and tapped at the bun until his finger broke through it. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

Shouko crossed her arms on the table and leaned in again as he took another drink.

“Listen, Yosuke,” she said in a hushed tone as her smile returned. “There’s no shame in making out with your mirror.”

Yosuke nearly spat his soda into her face.

“Oh, c’mon! You know, despite popular belief, I’ve never been that desperate.”

Shouko shrugged.

“I’ve done it.”

“Wha…” Yosuke’s jaw dropped, but only until he had time to imagine it, then he laughed lightly. “Yeah, I guess if I always saw you in the mirror I’d kiss it, too.”

* * *

 

_He spends more time with me than his friends._

“I’m going out tonight,” Shouko said, sipping her tea and occasionally glancing at the news on TV. “Marchelle wants to check out this new restaurant by her work.”

“Oh.” The syllable dropped out of Yosuke’s mouth like a brick.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah…” Yosuke said, rubbing his neck and looking elsewhere. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Shouko set down her tea and leaned over the arm of her chair.

“You weren’t planning any surprises for me tonight, were you?”

“Nah.” Yosuke let his hand fall to his lap, then leaned back. “I was just looking forward to a night with you instead of tokusatsu reruns and a box of topscicles.”

“You wanna come with? I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Yosuke crossed his arms as he considered it.

“That’s not her real name, is it?”

“It is when she’s doing a coord.”

His face scrunched up slightly.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Shouko relaxed back into her chair.

“How do you attract all these weird people anyway? You remind me of—” Yosuke stopped and turned to the window, then the floor. “Some… guy I knew.”

“I hope you know that group of weird people includes you.” Shouko took another sip of her tea. Her phone, sitting on end table, started to vibrate, and she picked it up. “What about your friends? It seems like you haven’t went out with anyone besides me in a while.”

Yosuke let out an exaggerated sigh while Shouko typed out a text and set her phone back down.

“They’re… you know, busy.”

“Too busy for you?”

Yosuke chewed on his lip, his eyes still on the floor.

“I dunno. Probably?” He glanced up long enough to see Shouko frowning at him. “I mean, they have important jobs.”

“And you don’t?”

Yosuke rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because the advertising department at Junes is _so important_.”

“Marketing information management specialist.”

Yosuke groaned and rubbed his forehead.

“Please don’t.”

“Fine, I won’t.” Shouko leaned over the arm of her chair again, and reached over to tap Yosuke’s wrist. “But only if you give your friends a call.”

He lowered her hands only to find she was watching him, and was probably planning to watch him until he did it. He sighed again, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

* * *

 

_He doesn’t like the word “Partner.”_

“Don’t they take lunch breaks?”

They were at the park, sitting on a bench together, trying to ignore the racket of the construction crew working on the new apartment complex across the street. They had little success, and their picnic had been less than romantic, filled with conversation hollered over jackhammers until they gave up and quietly focused on their boxed lunches.

“Apparently not.”

The park was otherwise empty, at least, thanks to the noise. Shouko closed the lid on her empty bento and rested her head on Yosuke’s shoulder. He said something she didn’t hear, and then held up a small slice of tomato in his chopsticks. Shouko leaned forward and took it in her mouth, then returned to Yosuke’s shoulder as the roar of the machinery died down.

And as Yosuke finished his lunch, the construction workers began theirs.

“Figures,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. Shouko only laughed at him. Yosuke smiled weakly, a bit annoyed with the circumstances, but happy to actually be able to hear her laughing after what had to be one of the longest lunches he’d ever had to endure. And as her laughter faded, he could hear the sound of the workers’ radio blaring. It was an old song, one he knew, but hadn’t liked enough to bother looking up the lyrics for.

“You any good at dancing?”

He turned to Shouko, who had sat upright again, and was beaming at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m perfect, but I’ve been around the dance floor a few times.” He winked at her, and she jumped to her feet, snatching his hand out of his lap. “W-wait, _now_? _Out here_?”

“Why not?”

Shouko pulled him out on to the grass, taking his other hand too, grinning wide and blushing. He smiled back, bashful, but just as red, glancing at the ground, then clasping her hands more firmly.

“You don’t think it’s weird? Doing this in public?”

Shouko laughed and gently squeezed Yosuke’s hand as they started to rock back and forth.

“Why would it be weird?”

Yosuke glanced at his shoes again.

“I mean like, you don’t mind being seen with me?”

“I don’t see anyone else out here who could be my dance partner.”

As though his blood had been replaced with ice, Yosuke’s hands went cold and the blush vanished from his face. His smile remained, though it was visibly struggling to do so.

“I, um… I guess, I guess that’s true,” he mumbled, his body stiff, no longer moving with the song, but instead letting Shouko move him like a doll. Shouko’s smile faded, and she slowed to a stop.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s… it’s nothing. Really. I promise.”

“Are you sick?” She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, and he let out a nervous laugh.

“Maybe.”

Shouko sighed.

“I guess you can be my partner some other time.”

Yosuke twitched, and his clammy hand went limp between Shouko’s warm fingers. She looked at him again, and he chuckled, or tried to.

“Guess we better head home before I get worse,” he said with a hollow, fake cheerfulness that had been honed with years of customer service experience, then sank into a more honest sulk of resignation. “Sorry.”

Shouko shook her head, then kissed his.

* * *

 

_He REALLY doesn’t like apple rabbits._

“So this is where you grew up?” Shouko asked, looking around the Hanamura residence.

“Just high school. We moved here for Dad’s job.” Yosuke had said it more to the floor than to Shouko, his hands in his pockets and his foot bouncing on the wood.

Yosuke’s dad cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” Yosuke said, also to the floor, but louder.

“We moved so I could—”

“Make a living for all of us, I know.”

Another guy, about Yosuke’s age, his cousin, or so Shouko had been told, threw his arm over Yosuke’s shoulders and practically laughed at him.

“Cheer up, man. Why do you gotta be such a downer in front of the pretty lady here? And after it took you so long to reel one in, too.”

“She’s not a fish,” Mr. Hanamura said sternly. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t scare her off, Kenichi.”

Shouko blinked. Kenichi scoffed and went to the kitchen, and Mr. Hanamura made his way to the couple.

“Don’t mind him. He’s young. Stupid.” He winked at Shouko in a familiar kind of way that made her smile and wonder what else Yosuke had gotten from his father. Then he turned to Yosuke and continued, “Speaking of—”

“ _Dad—_ ”

“This one, he’s brighter than he looks, but the connection between his mouth and his brain is kinda slow.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Yosuke whined, finally speaking to the appropriate person rather than the woodwork.

“But you probably knew that,” his father continued, ignoring him. “You’re the first one to stick around long enough for him to bring home. We’re hoping that’s a good sign.”

“Me too,” Shouko said, a small smile as she slipped her hand into Yosuke’s, jamming his thoughts and turning his face red. He managed to stutter out an awkward, wordy thank you as Mr. Hanamura returned to the kitchen with a knowing smile on his face.

They followed him into the kitchen, where Yosuke’s mother and a young girl were working on lunch. The scent of pork filled the room as it sizzled in the pan.

“Almost done, Rin?”

Rin, who looked to be about six or so, was holding a small knife and hunched over a pile of apple peelings. She set the knife down in the sink and nodded.

“Uh-huh! See?”

His mom looked over and smiled.

“Why don’t you go show Yosuke?”

Rin nodded again and hopped over to Yosuke and Shouko, beaming as she held up two small apple slices cut to look like bunnies.

“Look what I made!”

Shouko knelt down for a closer look.

“They’re so cute!”

Shouko turned to Yosuke, who stood with his arms loosely crossed over his stomach, smiling weakly.

“Yeah, they’re… they’re nice.”

The line of Shouko’s mouth fell into a tiny frown for an instant, but then returned to their former cheer.

“You must’ve worked hard on those.”

“Here!” Rin said, raising the slices to Shouko. “They’re for you!”

“Wow, thank you!” Shouko stood back up and offered one of the tiny fruit rabbits to Yosuke. His face tightened slightly.

“Oh, uh, that’s okay,” he said, holding up a hand. Shouko’s brows came together.

“Yosuke, she made these for us.”

“Actually, I’m, uh… allergic. To apples.”

“Since when?” his father asked from the kitchen table. Rin had started to tremble, and was watching them with wet eyes. Yosuke couldn’t bring himself to look up at either of them.

“It just sorta, you know, developed over time, I guess?”

“Yosuke—” his mother started to say, voice harsh, until she turned around and saw how pale her son was. The room went dead silent. Yosuke glanced up to scan the room only to find everyone staring at him. Quiet, painful seconds passed, until Kenichi returned to the room.

“Damn, Yosuke. You see a ghost or something?”

Yosuke’s eyes flitted around the room, and he seemed to fold in on himself, clutching his arms.

“I… I gotta go. Sorry.”

He turned and fled the room. Shouko spun around and reached out to him, but he'd already disappeared.

* * *

 

_Intimacy stresses him out? (Or maybe I’ve only been dating overeager people.)_

Shouko stood in the doorway to their bedroom, wearing nothing but black lace.

“Hey.”

Yosuke, still in his work clothes, was barely managing to stand before her. He was shaking as his eyes gave her a quick once over then darted away to look at something else.

“Hey,” he squeaked back, grasping the binder he’d brought home.

“How was work?” Shouko’s voice was deep. Husky. Expecting.

She already had her finger hooked over the top button of his shirt, threatening to undo it.

“It was, uh, you know. Same old, same old.” He tried to look down at the hand on his collar, but accidentally caught a glimpse of her cleavage instead. His eyes retreated to the ceiling. “Do… do you always do this? Just spring this kind of thing on your boyfriends?”

“Only the ones I like.”

“Oh. Um. That’s… that’s good.” He pulled her hand away from his shirt. “Listen, I’m… I’m, like, really glad to hear that, because I like you a lot too, but I have a lot of work to do, so…”

Shouko sighed and crossed her arms.

“You don’t want to have sex with me.”

“ _No!_ ” Yosuke blurted out without thinking, then covered his mouth. “Wait. I mean. I do. Like you’re really hot. Like really hot. Like who wouldn’t? But I guess, what I mean to say is, um, are… are you sure? Like really sure? Like really, really sure? Because, like, we didn’t discuss this at all or plan ahead or anything. I mean, I had no idea I’d be walking straight into a Playboy when I got home, you know? Do we even have condoms? Or lube? Do girls even need—” Shouko raised her eyebrows, and Yosuke’s voiced cracked in such a way he felt the need to raise his hand to steady the words. “—I MEAN, there’s a lot to consider if we’re gonna, like, commit to… to… _the act_.”

“Yosuke. If you’re not ready you can just say so.”

His eyes welled up. He dropped his binder and flung his arms around her.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Shouko kissed his cheek. “And yes, we do need lube.”

“Don’t ruin the mood,” Yosuke mumbled into her neck, his face burning bright as his hands tried to find safe places to rest on her body.

“I don’t wanna hear that from you,” she said, quietly laughing into his ear. “Sorry about all this. I guess I misinterpreted all that alone time you were spending in the bathroom.”

“I said don’t ruin it!”

* * *

 

_He has a bizarre fixation on gossip about Yu Narukami._

“Welcome to StarScandalz! I’m your host—”

“You’re not seriously watching this, are you?”

“Nah,” Shouko said without looking up from the half-built robot figure and the yet unused parts she had scattered on their living room floor. “You can change it.”

Yosuke reached for the remote while the host rambled on.

“Well, we sincerely hope that your daughter didn’t have her heart set on pro golfer Yu Narukami—” Yosuke’s hand froze and his head shot up to attention. “—because we’ve received reports that he might be playing for the other team.”

“Shirakawa, golf doesn’t have—”

“ _Anyway_ , the rumor that he’s been spotted with another man who was wearing his clothes has been spreading around the internet like wildfire.”

The program showed images from the most recent golf competitions and screenshots of social media posts in lieu of actual evidence. The co-host kept trying to get a word in only to have Shirakawa cut them off with more questionable information about the subject. All the while, Yosuke stood in front of his television, as stiff and pale as an ancient Greek statue.

Small and weak, he breathed, “…Partner?”

Shouko looked up from her project and looked back and forth between the TV and her boyfriend.

“Yosuke?”

He didn’t budge.

“Mr. Narukami himself has yet to make a statement regarding his relationship with the mystery man, but he’s scheduled to make an appearance Monday night at eight on—”

“Yosuke?” Shouko said again, standing up. No reaction.

“Monday at eight,” he muttered to himself. The program cut to a commercial and, shortly after, Shouko’s hand was waving in front of his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, lines of worry gathering under her bangs. “You look sick.”

“Yeah, I…” He turned to Shouko, then the floor. “I’m fine.”

Shouko looked at the TV.

“Do you—” She shook her head. “Do you know him?”

Yosuke blinked, then swallowed, then blinked again, his free hand clenching and unclenching.

“He’s just someone I went to school with.”

Shouko looked Yosuke over again, then took the remote from him and turned off the television.

“It’s really horrible that they’d do that to someone,” she said, leading him to the couch to sit. He limply fell into the cushion and didn’t say a word for the next hour as Shouko sat next to him and held him.

* * *

 

Shouko lifted her pencil from the paper and looked at the clock on the wall.

“He’ll be up soon, huh…”

She gave the list one last once over, then flipped her journal shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this chapter took so long and is p much all just yosuke/oc, but i felt like the story was ignoring him too much and that we should check up on him and acknowledge that he's having some issues of his own.
> 
> ...hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take as long "OTL


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of self-harm and Persona 5 spoilers.

Yu walked into the kitchen, trying to ignore the dread biting at his thoughts. Hayato was there, setting down plates full of leftovers.

“Don’t you dare cook anything today,” he said. “The fridge is so full I had to catch most of this stuff when I opened the door.”

Looking over the kitchen tile, Yu answered with a small, lifeless laugh that made Hayato raise his head and stare. Yu walked to his usual spot at the table.

“Everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh.” Yu sat down and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

Hayato sat down across from him.

“You sick or something?” he asked, leaning over the table.

“Nah, I don’t th—” Hayato’s hand slid under Yu’s bangs and against his forehead, making Yu’s eyes dart up to Hayato’s face. “—ink… don’t think…” Yu coughed the knot from his throat. “Probably not.”

Hayato gave him a smirk that edged into a small laugh. He took his hand back and settled back into his seat.

“Is that all it takes to get you flustered?”

Yu immediately dropped his eyes to his food, replacing the red in his face with a sickly pale and the smirk on Hayato’s with pursed lips. Neither spoke for a few seconds, and Yu took up his spoon and started to sort the leftovers on his plate.

“Sorry,” he said quietly into his rice.

“Why are—” Hayato began to say in the same instant Yu said “Yesterday—”

Both stopped, then murmured apologies at the table.

“You go first,” Hayato said.

Yu nodded.

“Yesterday, Zen did the same thing, so…”

The edge of Hayato’s mouth twitched.

“Um. Okay?”

“It just surprised me, I guess.”

Under the table, Yu was grinding his fingernail into one of his scabs. With his other hand, he stopped picking at his food and started making slow movements toward actually eating it.

Hayato frowned and scratched his head.

“I didn’t know your forehead was so popular.”

Yu’s spoon stopped half way to his mouth as he looked Hayato over.

“Uh…” He looked at his spoon, then back up at Hayato, and cautiously added, “Me neither?”

Minutes passed. Yu had to force himself to swallow his food, while, in the first thirty seconds at least, Hayato wolfed down his own, shoving one heaping spoonful after another into his mouth. He slowed two-thirds of the way into his plate, then chewed on his lip.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Hayato shook his head.

“No. That was…” His spoon clicked against the plate. “Childish.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

Yu’s eyebrows came together under his bangs. With a short, slight frown at his next bite, he silently continued eating. Hayato glanced at the clock and shifted in his chair. Yu forced another swallow.

Tension still tugging at his shoulders, Hayato racked his brain for a new topic. “So, uh… You hear back from your friend yet?”

Yu's face went blank until his brain, still in the process of waking up, caught on to what Hayato meant. He glanced around the outer edges of his plate, then patted down the pockets of his pajama bottoms.

“Must've left it in the bedroom.”

Hayato watched him carefully until Yu met his gaze and instantly tore it back down to his plate again. Yu cleared his throat and glanced up briefly, then asked, “What?”

Hayato had, over the course of the many months he'd spent with Yu, witnessed his descent into his phone addiction. When he’d first been brought into Yu’s home, the man had hardly checked the thing. He'd leave it in his jacket, by his futon, on the counter by accident, only to find himself searching for it frantically whenever Mr. Nibbles did something photo-worthy. And Hayato, to show his gratitude for having a home, would hold his pose, sometimes for unnatural lengths of time, until Yu found it.

But as the months passed, that phone had found its way next to Yu’s meals just as often as his favorite pair of chopsticks did. He kept it on him at all times, and was quick to pull it out when he got home. Hayato wasn’t sure _why_ exactly, since he didn't get many calls, and it was rare for him to use his phone for much other than posting photos of his cat (to an extent, he’d noticed, that some of his fans and fellow golfers had started to lament the lack of golf posts). But Yu seemed content to scroll through the comments on how cute his furry friend was, smiling goofily to himself while the glob of rice between his sticks grew cold.

Yet here Yu sat before him, both phone and mind obviously elsewhere.

“You must be really stressed out, huh?” Hayato said. Yu didn't respond, instead stirring the food around his plate, so Hayato continued, “Not that I blame you.”

Yu made a small noncommittal grunt. Hayato took another bite of his meal and mulled over his owner's behavior while he chewed.

Hayato swallowed, then asked, “Should we go over the plan for Monday?”

Yu resisted the urge to ask ' _What plan?_ ' then took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Tell them I helped a homeless person,” Yu said to his plate.

“Right.” Hayato nodded back. “And I'll back up your story.”

Hayato waited for Yu to add something, but he didn't, so Hayato awkwardly fumbled on, “A-anyway, I should probably wear a facemask, so nothing unexpected happens.”

Yu lifted his head. “And nose plugs?”

Hayato's mouth twitched into a frown. “Yeah.” He looked down at the spoon in his hand. “You wouldn't happen to have any dark sunglasses? Or hair gel?”

He had Yu's full attention now.

“For… your nose?”

“No, but…” Hayato scratched his head and sighed. “It’d be for the best if no one recognized me.”

A short silence filled the space between them, and then, “Is there a reason why?”

Another silence stretched over the table, and Hayato's hands migrated to his lap, where he picked at his own fingernails.

“You're not a wanted criminal or anything, are you?” Yu said with a weak laugh that only grew weaker when Hayato didn't look up from his hands. His own palms began to sweat, and he asked again, “Right?”

Hayato looked up at the ceiling, then back at his meal, his frown becoming more and more uneasy with each passing moment.

“I'm supposed to be dead,” he said, and though he didn't look at Yu, he could feel Yu’s eyes boring into him. “Legally, anyway.”

Yu worked his jaw, trying to come up with some kind of response, but all he could manage was, “Why?”

Hayato picked at his nails a while longer as Yu tried to process the bombshell that’d just been dropped on him. Hayato eventually took a deep breath, pulled his hands apart, placed them firmly on his knees, and puffed up his chest in a strong attempt to psych himself back up.

“It's… it's a long, complicated story. One you deserve to know.” Another breath. “But I think it’d be best if we waited until after Monday blows over to talk about it.”

Yu opened his mouth to argue, but as his thoughts caught up to him, he realized Hayato was probably right, even if Hayato was only trying to keep him from accidentally letting anything slip at the interview.

“Okay,” Yu agreed. “But I need to know, are you—are we in danger?”

Hayato shook his head.

“We shouldn't be. Or at least, you aren't. It was a long time ago, so...” His eyes darted away, and his body shrank again, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Yu was standing up, about to press him for more information when a loud flurry of knocks at the door shook the determination out of him. He turned to the door, pushing back his chair and taking a few steps in the door's direction.

A voice came from the other side, ringing clear through the apartment even after going through the thick door.

“Yu, we need to talk. Please, if—if you're there, answer the door! _Please_ , Yu!”

Yu froze about a meter from the door.

“Yosuke?” He'd breathed the name more than said it. Hayato stood and made his way to Yu’s side.

Then, another knock, and more quietly but with the same urgency, “C'mon, please be home!”

The door handle rattled. Yu's fist clenched at his side, his thumbnail easily sliding back into the dent of his scab. Hayato was quick to notice, and slipped his hand into Yu’s to stop it. Yu twitched back, but Hayato held his hand firmly. The movement itself came as no surprise, but the way Yu’s face lost color rather than gained it worried him.

“Want me to answer it?” he whispered, giving Yu's hand a light squeeze. With a small shake of his head, Yu pulled himself forward.

“I'll get it.” He stopped and turned back. “Shouldn't you hide?”

Hayato watched their linked hands,, swung them gently, and said, “I’d like to talk to him, if that's okay.”

Yu’s eyes followed Hayato's down to their hands, and in spite of the dark prickling feeling that crawled over his arm, he nodded. “Alright.”

Their hands fell loose and back to each other's sides as Yu approached the door. He paused to steel himself, to put together a strong face, and opened the door.

“Thank _God_ ,” Yosuke said over a relieved exhale. He rushed inside, making Yu stumble back. Yosuke, face flushed with nerves, quickly closed the door behind him, then turned to Yu. “What happened?!”

Yu's fist curled up tight again, though ignoring the scab this time. His lips drew tightly together as he fought every urge to shove Yosuke back into the hall.

“Morning, Yosuke,” Yu said, cold and even.

The harsh tone gave Yosuke pause, but he shook it off and pressed on.

“On TV—I heard them talking about...” Yosuke looked away, shifted weight from one foot to the other, then lifted his head and let his eyes wander between Yu and Hayato. “A-anyway, are you gonna be okay?”

Yu considered telling him he’d be just as okay as he had been for the past few months, but instead took in a deep breath through his nose to calm himself again.

“Yeah. It's just celebrity gossip. Shouldn't be a problem.”

Yosuke looked down at his shoes, and Yu's next to them, lined up against the ledge and facing the door. He winced at the sight and turned to look at the wall instead, raising a hand to his neck.

“Listen, if you need anything…” He made an attempt to lift his eyes to look at Yu again, but couldn't find the courage to do it. “I know… I know we're not on the best terms right now, but, um… You can call—or, you know, shoot me a text.”

Yu wanted to ask him when they would be on good terms again, but held it in, along with all the other bitter thoughts gathering in the back of his mind.

“Thanks,” he said, but it came out too firm, like closing a thick door, acknowledging the offer but keeping it out, and judging by the way Yosuke was chewing on his lip, it looked like it’d stung.

Hayato gathered himself and stepped forward.

“Yosuke,” he began, and Yosuke perked up at the sound of his name. Hayato went silent again as he realized he hadn’t planned to have this conversation so soon, if ever.

“Oh, uh… hi.” Yosuke started to send him a friendly if not nervous smile, but it disappeared almost instantly and his eyes darted back to the floor where only his and Yu's shoes occupied the entryway. His brows slowly came together.

“I'm Hayato.” Hayato took another step closer to Yosuke and offered his hand. Yosuke accepted it warily, and they shook.

“Yosuke. You, um...” Yosuke just barely raised an eyebrow as he observed the way Hayato was dressed, though it rose further when he saw Hayato sniffing his own hand after their handshake. “Visiting?”

Hayato lifted his head. “Oh, no. I live here,” he said, and then continued speaking into his palm. “We’re, uh… roommates?” His brows scrunched together over a frown. Something flashed across Yosuke's face, but Hayato didn’t look up from his hand quick enough to catch what it was.

“Oh, um…” Yosuke looked down again, toying with the cord of his headphones before turning to Yu with an awkward laugh. “You didn't mention having a roommate.”

“It's…” Yu took a deep breath, his whole chest moving with it. “It's a recent development.”

Hayato curled his hand into a ball and coughed into it. Yosuke lifted his head, his eyes moving back and forth between the two of them. He opened his mouth, working his lips before his brain could give the words sound.

“It's been about a week,” Hayato said, bouncing his foot. Yosuke's eyes locked onto him.

“This is your fault,” he whispered.

Hayato's foot became still.

“What?”

“ _This is your fault!_ ” Yosuke kicked off his shoes with a clatter and stepped further into the room. “You’re the reason my partner’s in this mess in the first place, aren't you?” Yu's stoic expression faltered at the word 'partner’, but he recovered quickly and stepped between them.

“Why are you here?” he asked as firmly and calmly as he could, hoping Yosuke wouldn't notice the way his balled up hands were shaking.

“How can you even ask that? I find out this dumbass outed you, and you weren't answering my texts—”

Hayato stepped around Yu and deep into Yosuke’s personal space, fixing a sharp glare on him.

“I didn't out him.”

“Really? Because that's not what I heard on the news.”

One of Hayato's hands shot up and yanked Yosuke down by his collar. Yu's eyes widened, showing another crack in his façade, but he couldn't quite piece himself back together. He grabbed Hayato's wrist, trying desperately to de-escalate the situation.

“Hayato, don't—"

“Dare you to say that again,” Hayato spat.

Yosuke stepped forward, his forehead nearly touching Hayato’s. “I said, _that's not what I heard—_ ”

“ _Yosuke, shut up!_ ” Yu practically spat at him, making both Yosuke and Hayato flinch back, anger erased by shock. Hayato's grip loosened on Yosuke’s shirt, and the three of them disconnected. Hayato drifted back, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the floor. Yosuke stood stiff, looking at Yu with nothing but hurt in his eyes.

“Yu?”

“How can you—” Yu stopped, scrubbed his forehead, and ran his hand back through his hair in a frustrated motion that made both Yosuke and Hayato twitch. “Did you drop everything just to show up at my door and yell at my—” Yu swallowed, then clenched his fist tight again. “—at my _friend_ about a situation you’re not involved in?”

“I _am_ involved,” Yosuke said, placing his hand on his chest. “ _My_ _friend_ just had his life ruined—”

“ _Your_ _friend_?” Yu asked with venom in his voice. “ _Your_ _friend_ you stopped talking to after he made you straight again? _That friend_?”

Yosuke shrunk back, horrified.

“That wasn’t— I mean, you didn't—” He sputtered, trying to voice three thoughts at once. “Is _that_ what you think this is about?!”

“What? Like you're not here to make sure your secret's safe?”

“Yu, I swear... that's not…” Yosuke's gaze dropped to the floor. He worked his fingers, curling and uncurling them over and over, then gripped them tight and lifted his head. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I'm _fine_ ,” Yu said coldly.

Hayato stood at the edge of their argument, unwilling to leave the room in case Yu gave in to another breakdown, but keeping his eyes on the floor to give them some bit of privacy, however tiny. He had a feeling he’d already heard far more than Yu had ever meant to tell him about his relationship with the man that’d turned up at their door, and though he willed himself not to think about it, his mind was reeling with questions.

“Well, _excuse_ me for thinking The Great Yu Narukami might need any help.”

“Yeah, because throwing accusations at my best friend is so damn helpful.”

Yosuke's jaw hung open as he fell speechless, his eyes darting between Yu and Hayato in disbelief.

“Are you _serious_?” He took a step forward. “What has he ever done for you? We survived high school together. We fought side by side. We solved a _murder case_ together, Yu. _We faced each other's_ _shadows_. Like… Who even is this guy?”

Yu lowered his head, trying in vain to stop his fists from shaking so violently. Hayato’s eyes caught the sight, and it stirred a mixture of guilt and panic deep within him. He tore his eyes from it to look back up at Yu’s face, then Yosuke’s, to see them both twisted in rage.

“And he just showed up out of nowhere, and now the whole country knows you're gay. That's suspicious as hell!”

Yu grabbed a fistful of Yosuke's shirt and jerked his head back up.

“You don’t know—"

“ _ **I'm his cat.**_ ”

Their fists and faces went slack, and slowly the two turned to face Hayato, who stood just beyond them, foot bouncing uneasily and arms not just crossed, but clamped down around himself, as though he thought he might be sick.

And after ten seconds that felt much longer, Yosuke finally croaked out, “What?”

He searched Hayato’s face, and then Yu's, then Hayato's again, looking for any signs they might be joking, but he only found the two of them pressing solemn stares into the floor.

“Wait, for real?”

Yu and Hayato both nodded. They shared a look, and then Yu took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Yeah,” Hayato said with a hollow laugh. “I'm… I'm Mr. Nibbles.” He cringed a little at the old name, still not really liking it after all this time, but it seemed like such a trivial thing after what he'd just witnessed that he felt another stone of guilt plummet into his gut.

“Seriously?” Yosuke asked, eyes bouncing between Hayato and Yu.

“Seriously,” Hayato said with a nod.

“Seriously,” Yu echoed tiredly, rubbing his forehead.

Yosuke opened his mouth, then closed it, averted his eyes, and rubbed his neck. He opened his mouth again and started to speak, but didn't get past the first syllable of whatever it was he’d wanted to say before it was bogged down by second thoughts.

Eventually, he was able to settle on, “No way.” And then, wide eyes moving across the floor as though his thoughts were written there, he continued, “How does that—that… even work?”

“I wish I knew,” Hayato said, somehow looking even smaller than he had before. “I was actually hoping you could help with that.”

Yosuke's brows came together in confusion.

“He, uh…” Yu began, scratching his head and wincing a little when his nails hit a sensitive spot. “He changed back after your visit.”

“During,” Hayato said, frowning at the memory.

“During your visit.”

Yosuke’s jaw fell slack, and he had to struggle to make it work again. “And… and you didn't say anything?”

“I was afraid of being thrown out, and you two were fighting.” Hayato fidgeted. “And I was, um, naked, so, you know…”

“That's… that's fair,” Yosuke said, trying not to imagine it too hard. “So…” He took a deep breath and put his hand on his hip. “That's why the news said you were in his clothes.”

“We made the mistake of ordering delivery,” Yu said, still feeling bitter about an autograph he'd never be able to take back. He sighed and let his hand drop to his side again.

“And, you know, Yosuke's right. That _was_ my fault.”

“Hayato, I'm not going to blame you for wanting a pizza.”

“No, I know, but…” Hayato shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I should've been smarter about it.”

“ _We_ should've been smarter about it.” Yu crossed his arms. “It's on both of us.”

Hayato looked at the floor, rubbing his arm. Yu watched him, but said nothing, brushing his fingertips over the sore spot under his hair.

“Yu,” Yosuke said, his raising his hand from his side. “You’re, um, doing that...” Yosuke mimicked Yu’s motion, running his hands through his own hair. “That thing again.”

Yu’s mouth twitched, and he brought his hand down to look at it, then dropped it to his side. “Sorry.”

Hayato lifted his head and watched.

Yosuke chewed on his lip, then asked, “When did you start doing it again?”

“A few days ago,” Yu said, putting a hand on his hip and looking down as he bounced his foot on the floor. “But it’s fine.”

“Yu, it’s not--”

“Yosuke,” Yu said firmly, cutting him off. “Don’t worry. After Monday, I should be…” Yu took a deep breath and shook his head. “Hayato’s helping me, so...”

Yosuke looked over at Hayato. “Alright.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “So how can I help?”

Hayato perked up. “Oh, uh...” He looked at the hand he’d been sniffing earlier while scratching his head with the other. “Maybe this is a weird question, but were you… wearing any kind of cologne that day? Or did you touch anything with a strong scent before coming over?”

“I, uh...” Yosuke scrunched up his nose, apparently not liking the question, but his face fell into a more neutral expression has he gave it more thought. “I don’t think so?”

Hayato’s face tightened at the answer, but he took a deep breath and relaxed himself again. “Is there anything at your home that might smell? Anything you wouldn’t notice?”

“Did you fart?” Yu added with a straight face, and Hayato elbowed him.

“I told you it wasn’t a fart.”

Yosuke smiled weakly, then sighed again. “Shouko comes home from the garage smelling like grease a lot. I can’t think of anything else though. You’re welcome to come over and check.”

Hayato pursed his lips together and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. After a few long seconds passed, he finally said, “Alright. Thank you.” He paused, then added, “Would it be okay to visit sometime when she’s not around? I’d rather not, you know, tell everyone about this.”

“Yeah, sure.” Yosuke hesitated, looking back and forth between Yu and Hayato. “Just let me know when.”

“I, uh, I thought you could let us know when,” Hayato said, and Yosuke gave a nervous laugh.

“Uh, actually… Shouko’s kinda… been on my case about not hanging out with my friends more, so...” Yosuke forced out another weak laugh that quickly fell into a cringe. “I think she’d probably pay you to come over and kick her out for a boys night.”

Yu and Hayato joined in with their own quiet, awkward chuckles, before exchanging glances and falling into silence as they stared at the floor together.

“Sounds like I’m not alone, huh?” Yosuke said with a pathetic wink. The others gave him short, tiny smiles in acknowledgment, but said nothing. “Anyway, I know Yu’s really busy with being a famous athlete and all, so, you know, just… shoot me a text whenever you two have time.”

“I’m not that busy,” Yu mumbled, resting his hand on his neck.

Hayato patted Yu’s shoulder. “We’ll do just that. Thanks.”

Yu shot Hayato a glance, then frowned to himself.

“Oh, and Yu?” Yosuke said, taking a small step toward him. “About… um...” He stopped to gather his thoughts. “About what happened between us. It’s… it’s in the past now, so...” He paused again, touching his fingers around the outer edges of his headphones. “I mean, if you wanna talk about it or just forget it happened or whatever, that’s fine, but...”

Yu clenched his fists at his sides, and tried to summon up something to say, but his mind was flooded and his throat was dry, and no matter how many times he swallowed, it wouldn’t bring the tide in his brain down to his mouth.

“I want you to know I’m sorry. For everything. And. And I know it won’t ever be as good as it was, because I messed up. Like _really_ messed up. But I still want us to be friends.” Yosuke’s eyes darted down to his shoes, but he dragged them back up to face Yu. “If that’s okay with you, I mean. So like, don’t hesitate to call whenever you need something. Or if you just want to hang out, or… anything. Just let me know.”

There was a part of Yu, just then, that wanted to explode, to scream, to ask Yosuke if he thought that was all it would take to fix everything, that wanted to punch him, just once, as payback for it all.

But there was another part too, that was tired. And looking at Yosuke’s face just then, eyes downcast and the line of his mouth tugged back, he realized Yosuke was tired too.

“Thanks,” Yu said, working his hands at his sides, trying to relax them. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart, then laughed. “You sure Shouko’s okay with me coming over? Since… well, you know?”

“Dude, I could invite a literal hooker over and she’d probably ask me why I didn’t introduce them sooner.” Yosuke scratched his head, then jolted to attention. “N-not that you’re like a hooker or anything. I just...”

“I know what you meant, Yosuke,” Yu said with a nod.

“I didn’t tell her about us or anything anyway, but...”

“But?”

Yosuke sucked in air through his teeth. “I, uh, kinda. Let it slip that I’ve…” Yosuke caught sight of Hayato again, and remembering he was there, Yosuke’s face went red and he shook his head back and forth. “Never mind. It’s not important. The point is, even if she did know about what we did, she wouldn’t care, and it’s not like we’re gonna do it again.”

Yu gave a sad smile and nodded again. “Alright. If you say so.”

The three of them stood there for a few seconds in silence, none of them looking at each other, until finally Yosuke coughed. “I guess I should probably head out then.”

“I guess,” Yu echoed back, shuffling his feet.

Hayato glanced over at the kitchen table full of leftovers. “Before you go, you’re not hungry, are you?”

Yu gave Hayato a sidelong glance of his own, and having caught it, Yosuke quickly waved his hand. “It’s alright. I, um… I actually… had plans. For lunch.”

“This early?” Hayato asked, but Yosuke was already pulling his shoes back on.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s on the other side of the city so I better get going.”

With some short formalities and a wave, Yosuke was gone.

“Oh, right, my phone,” Yu said, and he turned to make his way toward to the bedroom. Hayato watched him go and then come back with the phone in hand, and sit back down at the kitchen table. Hayato took a deep breath and slowly let it out through his nose, then sat back down to his breakfast.

“Your ex isn’t a very good liar.”

Yu nearly choked on his rice.

“He’s not my ex,” Yu managed to say after swallowing. Hayato only gave him a thoughtful hum in response. Yu stopped his next spoonful as it was halfway to his mouth. “You think he’s lying?”

Hayato picked up his own spoon and pushed it into the leftover curry. “Only about having to be somewhere. He seemed to be telling the truth about not knowing anything about the scent.” Hayato took a bite, and as he was chewing, continued, “But it’s been a few days. Maybe he forgot.”

“Maybe,” Yu said quietly before continuing his meal.

“Though,” Hayato started, then paused long enough for Yu to look up from his plate. “He said you didn’t answer his texts. I don’t remember your phone going off at all last night or this morning.”

Yu cast a guilty sidelong glance toward the front door. “I… might’ve blocked his number.”

“Oh.” Without looking down at it, Hayato stirred the food around his plate. “You gonna unblock it?”

“I guess I better.”

Yu took a few bites of his vegetables, and Hayato smiled at him softly.

“I’m glad your appetite’s back though,” Hayato said, and Yu managed to smile back at him, despite how tiny and bashful it was.

Yu looked down at his food, then lifted his head again. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go over this weekend.”

“It’d be nice to have it figured out before the interview, but if we didn’t find anything I’d just be forcing you two to be around each other for a few hours, and both of you kinda…” Hayato made a face. “Well...”

“That obvious?” Yu set down his spoon and picked up his phone.

“Yeah.” Hayato watched Yu open his texts and frown at the screen. “And I know you’re really on edge as it is right now.”

Yu sighed and lifted his head. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Yu set his phone back down. “No reply yet, is all.”

“It was kind of late last night.”

Yu lifted his eyes to Hayato. “He’s never been that attached to his phone. It’s fine.”

Hayato frowned, but kept his thoughts to himself. “What about Zen?”

“What about him?” Yu asked, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

“You gonna text him?”

“You really think now is a good time for me to be texting hot guys?”

Hayato leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “I guess not. But I thought you wanted to be friends with him.”

“Maybe after Monday.”

As their meal continued, Hayato made small talk, or tried to, at least. Yu was gradually less and less into it as time passed, Hayato noticed. As Yu’s nerves returned and built up, his words dwindled until after they’d completed dishes and he was replying to Hayato’s idle chatter with nothing but nods and grunts.

“So what’s today’s plan?” Hayato asked as he dried his hands.

Yu shrugged with a quiet “I’unno” that Hayato barely heard over the sound of the plates he was sliding back into their proper place in the cupboard.

“You wanna like, talk more about Monday, or--”

“No,” Yu said curtly.

“Alright...” Hayato gave the kitchen another once over. “You’d prefer a distraction then?”

Yu made a small noise in the back of his throat that wasn’t really an answer. He walked into the living room, looked over the bookshelf.

“You wanna read together?” Hayato leaned over the kitchen counter, looking into the living room. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

Yu gave him a short confused look, but then his expression cleared, and he crossed his arms in thought. “It has.”

“You gotta pick something besides Timid Teacher though. You always pick that one.”

Yu ran his finger over the shelf, collecting a clump of dust on his fingertip and leaving a clean trail behind. “Should dust this.”

“Are you listening? No Timid Teacher.” Hayato straightened back up and joined Yu in the living room. “As soon as I get my body figured out, I’m taking you to a library for some decent literature.”

Yu’s face fell into a small pout. “What’s wrong with Timid Teacher?”

“Nothing, the first time.” Hayato put his hands behind his head. “It doesn’t have any re-readability. I have no idea how you can keep reading it.”

“It’s charming.”

“It’s boring, is what it is.”

Yu slid Off Today out from between the other books.

“Are you serious?” Hayato asked, brows flat over his eyes. Yu gently tapped the paperback against Hayato’s forehead, then made his way to the couch and laid down. “We’ve read it like eight times. At least pick something I haven’t read yet.”

“You don’t have to read the same thing I do.”

Hayato frowned at that, feeling a bit stumped as to why he wanted to read the same thing in the first place, and then in spite of that still said, “But we always read together.”

“Yeah, well, you always used to fit in my lap, too.” Yu opened the book and flipped through the first couple pages until he found chapter one.

“Whatever. I still fit in your lap,” Hayato said, approaching the couch.

“Uh-huh.”

Just as Yu laid eyes on the first word of the first chapter, Hayato sat on him.

Yu, doing his best to keep a neutral face, lowered his book, both to look over it and also to cover the way he was digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Hayato.”

“Hm?”

“That’s not my lap.”

“I can’t see the book.”

“You didn’t want to see the book,” Yu said in something of a sharp whisper as he endured Hayato’s weight on his abdomen.

“I never said that.”

Yu closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. “You want to see the book?”

“Um, yes?”

Yu set the book aside, and within an instant Hayato was splayed over him and smiling down at him, barely an inch between their faces. Yu could feel the heat rising to his face, and that familiar dread following right behind it, like vomit from a fever. Hayato’s face had become rosy too, but it didn’t seem to bother him, his smile breaking into laughter as he saw Yu’s quiet alarm.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to see the book like that,” Yu said, his eyes darting around, trying to look somewhere that wasn’t at Hayato.

Hayato turned himself around, curling his body around Yu’s side and tucking his head into the crook of Yu’s neck. “How’s this?”

Yu picked up the book and flipped it back open again, then glanced down at Hayato. “You can see it?”

“Mmhm.” Hayato’s breath powdered Yu’s neck, and while Yu’s body was telling him the heat was nice, his mind was blaring warning sirens, begging him to abort mission. Yu’s hands shook, and so did the book. Hayato’s solution was to hold him tighter, which didn’t change anything. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Yu lied, shakily rubbing Hayato’s shoulder. “But I’m not sure how you expect me to convince people I’m not gay if we keep doing stuff like this.”

“It’s fine.” Hayato yawned. “I’m your cat, remember?”

Yu forced a laugh. “Right.”

Yu struggled to turn the page with the same hand he was holding the book with. He kept at this for a few seconds, until Hayato helped him. Yu mumbled a quiet “thanks” and Hayato merely _mmhm_ ’d into his neck again.

The proximity, the heat, the arms wrapped around him, all of it made it nearly impossible to focus on reading. And on top of that, thoughts of the crowd and the host and the what ifs of Monday’s interview only made things worse. It took Yu several minutes to get through a page, and knowing that, even normally, Hayato was the faster reader, made the churning in his stomach that much harder to endure.

Whatever, Hayato deserved this for dissing his favorite series, or so Yu tried to tell himself, but in spite of his bitter thoughts, a fluttery nervous smirk made its way to his face, and he desperately hoped Hayato wouldn’t lift his head and see it.

Ten pages later, Hayato fell asleep, leaving Yu to turn the pages on his own. Yu nudged a Hayato a couple times, which got him nothing but a gurgled murmur of a line from the page Hayato had read just before dozing off.

“It’s not even noon,” Yu said helplessly. He reached over Hayato’s shoulder for the page, and failed twice. Once from nerves and the once from, well, also nerves, but the movement of his free hand toward the page had also squeezed Hayato’s head between his shoulder and head, and consequently pressed Hayato’s limp lips to his neck, making Yu freeze. He didn’t move, his brain too preoccupied with thoughts of whether he should be enjoying this or if it was creepy of him to do so. It wasn’t until Hayato was mumbling at him that he remembered to move.

“Can’t breathe,” Hayato said, voice muffled by the neck his lips brushed against. Yu promptly dropped his arm back down and freed him.

“Then.” Yu swallowed. “Don’t sleep here.”

With a quiet groan, Hayato groggily moved himself down and situated himself, resting his head on Yu’s chest.

“That’s not what I meant,” Yu said, a bit more firmly as his annoyance dulled his nerves, but Hayato had already drifted off again. However, Yu’s arms had been freed, and with a short sigh, Yu turned the page and rested his hand in Hayato’s hair.

Still resting on the kitchen table, Yu’s phone buzzed erratically. Yu passed a glance at it, then down to Hayato on top of him. He made a small frown, then, resigned to his fate, he returned to his reading.

* * *

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** hey i hope you get this. im sorry about today_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** i didnt mean to come off like i was worried about myself i mean yeah id prefer you didnt say anything_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:**  fck this is supposed to be an apology ok whatever you can tell people if you want i probably had it coming anyway_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** what i wanted to say was t_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** the ill be watching the show_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** *that_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** wtf i try to txt actual words 1time_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** ILL BE WATCHING_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** to support you_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** partner_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** can i still call you that_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** this is a mess geez_

_**Yosuke Hanamura:** anyway im sorry n i hope we can still be friends or at least talk or hang out or smth_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter was just. Unplanned things happening all over. A lot of "because this other thing happened, logically this would happen now, even though I'd hoped to reveal or solve it differently later."
> 
> I changed Yosuke's texting style for the apology because I figured he'd try to sound a little more formal than usual given the situation.
> 
> I've been working on this fic alone for a long time now, and I know a lot of personal things have been incorporated into the story now, so this fic has become important to me, and also a way of venting. (Please don't take this in a literal sense, I swear I've never lost a best friend the way it happened in this fic, but certain parts, the loneliness and the feeling of old friends being out of reach or gone, that is very real to me.) Which, tbh, I feel kind of bad about, since this fic was originally conceived of someone else's ideas, and partially meant to be written for them.
> 
> But I've also reached a point where I cannot continue to write this for others, only for myself. Trying to write for others only made task more daunting, and though I'd plan out ideas, I found it very difficult to write them.
> 
> Anyway, my point is: I'll still be writing this, posting this, but it will be completely self-indulgent, of my own feelings and ideas, and in that sense, hopefully not worse, but definitely the story I'm willing to write, wanting to write, and looking forward to writing.
> 
> Thanks to Zippyelly for proofreading this chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for nightmare/disturbing imagery. Can be skipped, scroll down to first text partition.

“So, Mr. Narukami, tell us about your boyfriend.”

The spotlights beat down on Yu, baking him through his suit. He tugged at his collar, then turned to his right. Hayato sat at his side, too close, too far. Their hands were touching. Yu couldn’t see his face; it was obscured by the mask, the sunglasses, the glare of the lights on his gelled hair.

Yu turned to the left. The faceless audience watched silently.

Yu swallowed and turned back to the host sitting at the far end of the set. Yu crossed his legs and put his hands on his lap.

“Oh, him?” he said, pointing a thumb toward Hayato and putting on his best fake smile. “We’re not dating.”

The audience watched. With their beady glowing eyes they watched, blinking like robots.

The host laughed. “Oh, no. Not him.”

Yu clasped his hands tight over his knee and forced out a single laugh. Hayato coughed.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Yu said, a light yet tense humor behind his words.

“That’s not what we heard.”

The blinks became rapid, like needles in Yu’s periphery. Hayato coughed.

Yu swallowed again. “Excuse me?”

The host smiled too wide. “Why don’t you tell us about your relationship with Zen?”

“Zen?”

Sweat soaked through Yu’s shirt. Yu pulled his open suit jacket closed over the growing stain.

The host stood up from his chair and made a grand gesture to the audience, his arms too long for his body. He took out a remote control and aimed it at the large screen display. “Maybe you’d like to explain this photo, Mr. Narukami?” He clicked the remote, and the screen showed a selfie of the Yu and Zen at the supermarket, and a silver dildo between them.

The audience buzzed with static.

Yu sat wide-eyed and frozen. His legs uncrossed and his foot dropped limply to the floor. Hayato coughed.

“What were you two doing with that?” The host crossed the stage, microphone hanging loosely from his worm-like fingers. “In public no less. How shameless.”

“It was a fish,” Yu said weakly.

The host approached Yu. He leaned into Yu’s space, making Yu press himself back into the couch. The host lifted the microphone between them, his slimy fingers coiled around and around and around it.

“So whose idea was it? Yours or his?”

“I told you.” Yu’s voice wavered. “It was a fish.”

“ _Right,_ ” said the host, drawing out the word. “And what did you do with that ‘ _fish_ ’?”

Yu turned to Hayato with a weak nervous breath of a laugh. “Hayato, you saw it. Tell him.” Yu put his hand on Hayato’s shoulder and shook him gently. Hayato coughed. Red splatters soaked through his mask. Yu flinched back, then asked with urgency, “Hayato, what’s wrong?”

Hayato coughed. He coughed. He coughed. He coughed. His mask was red. He coughed. His mask was dripping, dripping red. Dripping down his neck.

“Someone, call an ambulance!” Yu shouted.

The audience continued to flicker and buzz.

The host drew closer to Yu as Yu was pulling down Hayato’s face mask. Hayato coughed. Blood speckled the host’s suit.

“Why don’t you show us what you did with Zen at the supermarket?” the host asked, his grin stretching, pressing up against the bottom of his eyelids.

Yu’s face twisted into anger. “Can’t you see he needs help?!”

“Don’t…” Hayato coughed. “Don’t bother...” Hayato coughed. Hayato coughed. He coughed blood. Blood. Blood on the host. “I’m already dead.”  
He coughed. He coughed. Blood on the couch, the floor.

Pupils and bloodstained fingers quivering, Yu shook his head. “Don’t say that. I’ll get help.”

“Tell us what you did, Yu,” said the host.

Yu frantically patted down his pockets, leaving bloody prints scattered across his clothes. He pulled out his phone.

“Was it anything like what you did with Yosuke?” said the host.

The audience blinked, blinked, blinked. There was blood everywhere. Buzzing everywhere.

Yu spun around. He swung at the host and hit him square in the jaw. The host’s cheek fell away. There was nothing but teeth up and down his entire face.

“He’s dying!” Yu was crying.

“I’m already dead,” Hayato said, falling against Yu’s shoulder. Yu dialed. “I’m already dead.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not.” Yu said through his tears. “I’ll fix it. Let me fix it.”

* * *

Yu fell awake into the throw pillow under his head. When he opened his eyes, Hayato was hovering over him, face tight with concern. Hayato was clutching Yu’s shoulders, though his grip loosened when Yu propped himself up.

“You okay?” Hayato asked, withdrawing back and sitting on his knees on the sofa. Yu pushed himself up into a sitting position. He went to rub his neck, then pulled his hand back as soon as his fingertips met the wet hair on his nape.

Yu dropped his hand into his lap and looked up at Hayato with a relieved yet bashful smile. “You’re okay.”

Hayato gave him a lop-sided frown. “Um. Yeah?” He leaned over the edge of the couch and, steadying himself on the coffee table, he picked up Off Today from the floor. “Good thing this is paperback.”

As Hayato readjusted the book’s dust jacket, the smile fell from Yu’s face. He looked away and mumbled, “Sorry.”

Hayato shook his head. “I’ve been hit with worse. Back in high school I had this real hardass teacher that would throw chalk at you if you weren’t paying attention.”

“Harsh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, you have some kind of intense cooking nightmare or something? You kept saying something about a fish and fixing it.”

A vision of the Hayato from his dream flashed before Yu’s eyes, coughing into a bloodied mask.

“Yu?”

Yu blinked back to reality. “Yeah… yeah.”

Hayato looked Yu over, set the book on the table, and then leaned back against the back of the couch. “You’re not a great liar either, huh?”

Yu’s head sunk between his shoulders, just slightly, enough to confirm Hayato’s conclusions. He got up and started toward the kitchen. “It was about the interview.” Yu picked up his phone from the kitchen table and clicked it on. He gave a tiny jolt when he saw the number of notifications.

“We really gotta get your mind off that.”

Feet frozen in place, Yu glanced up at Hayato over the counter between the kitchen and the living area. He gave Hayato a stiff nod that betrayed the way he’d been trying to hide the ever growing pit in his stomach and summoned Hayato to leave his spot on the sofa.

“What’s up?” Hayato asked, leaning on the counter between them.

Yu cracked a small, nervous smile. To his relief, most of the notifs were apology texts from Yosuke followed up by an awkward attempt at an offer to hang out. Hayato was welcome to come too, it seemed, as long as that was okay with Yu, Hayato, God, and everybody.

“Yosuke wants to get together.”

“Again?” Hayato rested his face in his hand. “We just saw him a few hours ago.”

Yu laughed once, his humor waning as he looked over the other notifications. He’d been tagged in a post by multiple people, and shortly after, Zen had followed him.

The prickling dread came back. Yu wasn’t entirely sure why. This was a good thing, right?

He opened the post to see, both to his relief and chagrin, the photo from the supermarket. The fish, at least, was exactly that, a fish. A dead, lifeless, completely innocent and not at all sexy fish.

While Yu had been distracted by the photo, Hayato had made his way around the counter and to Yu’s side.

“That again?” Hayato asked flatly.

“He posted it.”

Hayato looked up at Yu, down to the photo, and then back up. “Is… that bad?”

Yu scrolled down through the comments. Several of the earlier ones were their mutual followers tagging him, and then it quickly deteriorated into cheeky remarks and people who claimed to had been there when it happened.

> **gyarunyan >** i was there n ya kno… narukami seemed rly nervous
> 
> **mochagurl >** i’d be nervous meeting Zen for the first time too! ;D
> 
> **chickentits >** Are we really gonna believe every person who says they were there?
> 
> **gyarunyan >** i rly was there tho! zen touched his 4head n he dropped his basket n evrything
> 
> **3woodjones >** sounds gay
> 
> **par_amount >** Maybe there’s something to those rumors, lol!
> 
> **mochagurl >** at least he’s got good taste
> 
> **nrkmosr >** ew…
> 
> **chickentits >** Leave him alone :/
> 
> **birD >** who actually says 4head wtf

“Yu?”

> **ZEN >** IT WASN’T THE FIRST TIME
> 
> **mochagurl >** lsdkghlsfa wHAT
> 
> **ZEN >** WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS
> 
> **par_amount >** ?????????
> 
> **3woodjones >** i think his caps lock key is stuck again

“Hello? Yu?” Hayato waved his hand in front of Yu’s face.

“It’s fine,” Yu said, turning to face Hayato. “I just didn’t think he’d post it.” Yu lifted his phone to look at it again.

> **ZEN >** IT WASN’T THE FIRST TIME
> 
> **ZEN >** WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS

His face went deep red in stark contrast to the sterling bangs that hung over it. He set his phone screen down on the table and brought his hand to his face as he waited for the fever to pass.

_Friends. For years._

There was no way it could’ve been years. Yu counted his way back through the events of the past couple years, trying to determine the relative position of the interview where he’d met Zen. A little over a year at most, he figured.

So maybe Zen wasn’t so great at keeping track of time.

But…

_He thought of me as a friend this whole time?_

The thought made Yu a little dizzy.

“I wish he’d told me,” he said quietly into his hand.

“You posted our selfies all the time without telling me,” Hayato said with a shrug.

Yu blinked and lifted his head. “What?”

“I’m just saying.”

Yu pressed his eyebrows flat over his eyes, then lifted them in realization. “I meant, uh...” He picked up his phone and brought up the comments again. He held the phone out to Hayato, who took it and read it closer. Hayato leaned back against the counter, shoved a hand into the pocket of his sweats, and started scrolling through the rest of the replies.

“You had no idea this whole time, huh?”

Yu joined Hayato, leaning back against the counter space next to him and watching him go through the comments. He nudged Hayato with his elbow, and without looking up Hayato nudged him back. Yu let out a small, soft sigh, then turned his attention to the ceiling.

“Supermarket must’ve been packed yesterday,” Hayato said.

“Yeah.” Yu matched Hayato’s tired sarcasm.

“Did you really drop your groceries over this guy?”

Yu’s face flushed, and he turned away.

Hayato raised his head and looked over. “Is that a yes?”

“My hands were sweaty.”

With a small chuckle, Hayato took one of Yu’s hands from the edge of the counter and placed the phone in it. “I’d probably react the same way if my crush did that, too.”

Yu looked Hayato over. “You have a crush?”

“What? You think I wouldn’t?” Hayato leaned into their conversation with a mischievous smile. Yu fell back a step.

“It’s just… you’ve been stuck in this apartment so long.” Yu scratched his face.

Hayato frowned slightly. With downcast eyes and a sigh, he said, “Yeah.”

Yu’s expression hardened. He set the phone on the counter and placed his hands firmly on Hayato’s shoulders.

“We’ll get this cat thing figured out, and you’ll be able to go outside again soon,” Yu said, his gaze intense. “I promise.”

Hayato pushed out a small laugh. “Thanks.”

Yu released Hayato’s shoulders and gave one of Hayato’s arms a friendly pat. Hayato held on to a strained smile until Yu had turned his attention to the cupboard under the sink. Hayato watched Yu dig through the cleaning supplies. Hayato’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed. Yu pulled out a dust rag and wood polish, and Hayato narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t tell me you really think that shelf needs dusting,” Hayato said, making Yu pause to give the cleaning supplies in his hands a second look.

“It’s been a little over a week.”

Hayato took a deep breath and clenched his fists at his side.

“That’s not that long.”

Yu wore a sad but lost look on his face. He turned to Hayato, searching for something, and then back to the rag, gingerly feeling out the worn cloth that had been stained brown with years of use.

“Hayato.” Yu turned the cloth over in his hand. Hayato’s lips parted as the realization dawned on him, and he sank his hands into his pockets.

“Right. Sorry.”

Yu shook his head and waved it off, then walked to the bookcase. Hayato’s eyes followed him, and Hayato crossed the kitchen to the counter leaned over it to peer into the living area.

“I just thought maybe you could distract yourself with something fun for once.”

Yu tossed a glance back toward Hayato, but didn’t hesitate to continue with the task he’d set his mind to, setting down the polish, sticking the rag in his pocket and starting to pull the books from the shelves. “For once?”

“I’ve been living here for months, Yu. I notice your habits.”

Yu breathed out a small sigh as he set a stack of books on the floor.

“Like when your caddy chewed out that reporter--”

Yu stopped and turned around. “She didn’t chew him out.”

“She did something that made you turn the whole apartment over until it was spotless.”

Yu tried to hold back a frown, but some of it still managed to come through on his face as he returned to clearing out the shelves. He didn’t need the constant reminders that Hayato had apparently become an expert on his behavior in the time that he’d been his cat. To be frank, Hayato’s insistence that he knew more about him than he did himself was beginning to grate on his nerves, but he kept it to himself as he worked.

Hayato pushed himself up off the counter and made his way to Yu’s side, pulling books out by the handful.

Yu side-eyed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“I know.” Hayato pulled out a book with a magical girl in frills on the cover and flipped through it before tossing it on the pile. “But I don’t pay rent, so… you know.”

“You think this covers your share?”

Hayato looked up at him with a slightly irritated smirk. “Hilarious.”

Yu chuckled quietly to himself, and Hayato elbowed him.

“Sure, laugh at me, but I’ll increase the distraction factor tenfold.”

“Uh… huh.”

Half a minute or so passed, and Hayato begun to hum to himself. It was a familiar bright, fast-paced melody that Yu recognized right away as the one Mr. Nibbles would always tap the back button on.

“You really like that song,” Yu said, eyebrows raised.

“Best CD you own.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Hayato shrugged. He moved from the books to the CDs. “Maybe. Your selection’s pretty small now.”

Yu pursed his lips and reached up to the pull things from the top of the bookcase as he resisted the urge to tell Hayato his distraction factor wasn’t going to be very effective if he kept bringing up Yosuke.

Hayato went back to humming. He was focusing more on the song in his head than cleaning, Yu noticed whenever he looked over. Hayato pulled out the CD and scanned over the track list.

“What are you doing?”

“Gonna spice this up.”

Yu gave him another short glance. “Spice up dusting?”

Before Yu could finish speaking Hayato was slipping a [disc](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5w0E6y01OuQ) into the CD player. A voice sparked out, its distance making it sound more like it was coming from a car radio outside than the player there in the room. Hayato nodded along expressionless to the beat as he twisted up the volume.

Yu frowned at the noise. “Hayato, the neighbors are gonna compla--” The guitar surged through the speaker and flooded the room, loud and shameless, horns peppering the funky beat. The music flowed easily through Hayato’s limbs, and snatching the rag from Yu’s pocket, he set himself to drawing rhythmic circles over the wood as he bounced, bounced, bounced, mouthing the words along with the lead singer. Yu watched him, mouth falling open in slight awe that Hayato could so easily, so _freely_ , show off that side of himself.

Somewhere deep inside, Yu was just a bit jealous.

His outside, however, couldn’t tear his eyes away. The song hit the build and Hayato rocked his hips, smooth and sultry, hand sliding over his thigh, matching the groove of the melody until the horns returned and Hayato drew that hand up and back through his hair as the song dropped the refrain. Hayato’s eyes flicked up at Yu, his face beaming with a smile as he saw he had Yu’s full attention. He held out his hand and said something Yu couldn’t hear over the speaker.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the hot excited embers in Yu’s chest overwhelmed the cold dread in his gut.

Electric eyes behind a bashful grin, he placed his hand in Hayato’s.

Hayato tossed the rag onto the shelf and took up Yu’s other hand too, shifting their hands back and forth, pulling and pushing Yu’s arms to the cadence of the singer’s voice, dragging Yu into the rhythm with him. He said something else, and Yu still couldn’t hear it. Yu mouthed back “What?” but Hayato laughed and shook his head with a stupid grin.

Hayato let go of one hand and lifted the other, twirling Yu in close and, rocking with him in his arms, he said into Yu’s ear, “How’s this for spice?”

Unable to ignore the feeling of Hayato’s hips grinding against his behind, Yu let out a nervous laugh. “Not bad.”

“Only ‘not bad’?” Hayato’s breath fell hot on his neck.

“Are you flirting with me?”

It was Hayato’s turn to laugh. “What do you think?”

“What about your crush?”

“What about him?”

Hayato spun him back out. Not expecting the release, Yu flung back leg out, knocking over a pile of books. Hayato yelled an apology over the music, but Yu just shook his head and stepped in line parallel to Hayato. He snapped his fingers and led Hayato back into the music. Yu’s moves were just a tad goofier, but he kept up with the song, looking cool in that way the investigation team always used to tell him only he could pull off. He didn’t have Hayato’s spice, but that didn’t seem to matter, as Hayato was quick to follow him, cheering Yu on and adding his own sexy flourish to the moves. The drums and the guitar paired up, and so did they, passing the dance back and forth between them. It was only then that Yu noticed Hayato looked a little silly too, but he managed to cover for it with a fwip of his hair ( _good God, that hair_ ) and a cocky smirk that Yu wanted to kiss away.

They reunited at the bridge, left then right then left then right then jump, another stack of books tumbling over. The song’s climax came, and Hayato pulled him in again, no twirl this time, only arms thrown around Yu’s neck and hips too close, brushing across each other until they settled into a grind with a friction that melted whatever stubborn icy feeling that might’ve survived in Yu’s gut that long. Yu followed suit, settling his arms on Hayato’s shoulders and letting his fingers crawl into the lush mess of hair at the scruff of Hayato’s neck.

The song finally came to a close, and they stood in the silence, bound together by limbs and heat and tension. Both of them were red in the face, maybe from the dancing, maybe from the proximity, and their eyes flitted between the other’s eyes and lips.

The next song started up, breaking the spell that tied them together. They stepped back, arms falling back to their sides, each of them wearing sheepish smiles that they aimed to the floor.

“Pretty good distraction, right?” Hayato said through heavy breaths. Yu couldn’t blame him, even though their dancing had slowed at the end, his heart was pounding in his ears louder than the song’s bass had been, and his own breath had grown labored because of it.

“Yeah.”

Hayato grinned at him, then turned back to the shelf, picking up the rag he’d tossed aside and letting the music guide it across the wood again.

Yu watched him, wondering if it’d all really happened, if Hayato really had just invited him to dance, just shamelessly flirted with him for four minutes and fifteen seconds, just nearly kissed him, or if it was all a wishful daydream in his head.

And then, he wondered, regardless of whether it’d been real or not, how he would be able to forget before Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to ZippyElly for proofreading and suggestions, as well to Angevon for helping come up with names for the chatroom members.
> 
> I've been wanting to try writing a dancing scene for a while, but it's only coincidence that my first attempt would be in this fic. That scene wasn't in my original plans for this fic, but after getting Bradio's Power Of Life album I knew I just _had_ to write soukira dancing. Besides, Hayato's personality isn't one that can just sit back and watch the man he wants walk away from him, yeah?
> 
> I ended up listening to Otona Hit Parade on repeat for a few hours, and now I have a minor fic headcanon that Funky Student is the reason Yu has this CD.


End file.
